Convergence by TaylorGibbs and Zabby
by TaylorGibbs
Summary: Abby mistakenly unleashes a power that nobody can control & everything changes. Strangers must learn to trust each other, alliances must be made. One woman’s soul hangs in the balance, but will the team find her in time? Gibbs/Abby, warnings in prologue.
1. Prologue

Pairing: Gibbs/Abby, the rest TBA throughout the story. Warning: Forced sexual encounters/rape and torture in later chapters.

Alternate universe/paranormal.

Prologue

Even though it was twenty-two hundred, Gibbs was comfortable at his desk. Now that the team was back, they were all trying to settle in. He was spending a lot of time at his desk, watching out for them, but he wouldn't admit it.

Abbs was still in the lab, which had become as much as comfort zone as her coffin. DiNozzo was still at his desk studying reports of cases that had occurred when he'd been afloat, Ziva had brought dinner back with her and was squinting at her computer screen and McGee was typing away, his expression serious.

Only Ducky and Palmer had left at a reasonable hour. Palmer had a night class and Ducky's mother was in failing health. Gibbs ran a hand over the back of his neck, pulling in a deep breath. There was no way he'd leave before his agents did and he was getting concerned about the way they were all settling back in.

DiNozzo's eyes were shadowed and Gibbs noticed his hand shaking sometimes. Ziva seemed hollow, as if the very effort of pretending to be okay after her time back with Mossad was wearing on her. And McGee's head still snapped around whenever anyone said "Boss", his eyes lighting up whenever Vance was near. The team was back together but they weren't the same.

Rationally, Gibbs knew it would take time for the team to gel, but he hadn't expected that he'd be so damned tired. Their separation had worn on him; he couldn't allow himself to become as close with them as he had been. It had been far too easy for Vance to manipulate the situation. And Gibbs had no doubts that Vance had used his team's loyalty. The mole and Langer's deception had only been a piece of the puzzle.

Days like today, Gibbs wondered if he wasn't getting too old for all of this. He looked up wearily as a shadow loomed over his desk suddenly, feeling every one of his forty-eight years.

Abby knew she should be happy. She really should. All of the team, all of her family, was home. McGee was back at his desk instead of running around as the boss of Cyber Crimes. Tony was finally on land and back at NCIS. And Ziva had returned from Israel, safe and moody for reasons she hadn't told Abby about yet.

But something wasn't right. They were all home and back where they were supposed to be – according to Abby – but the bond had been altered, ripped apart and not fixed yet. And the worst part was that Gibbs had separated himself from the rest, especially from her. And she couldn't figure out why.

Waiting down in her lab for something to change, Abby had decided she was going to do something to fix it, to reunite her family. She charged towards the elevator and then made her way to the squad room. Rushing to Gibbs' desk, she said hey to the others as they sat at their desks and stopped in front of Gibbs.

She smiled at him, her pigtails swinging. "Hey, Gibbs!"

"Abby," he said, watching her, wishing he had her energy or spirit. "What's keeping you here so late?" he asked quietly, not reprimanding her, but also staying mildly calm and distant. His stomach let out a quiet growl, but he tried to ignore it, sighing and running a hand over his desk, wiping off an already clean surface.

"You." She answered him simply, straight and to the point, as was her way, but still just a bit vague. "All of you, actually," she added, looking around the bullpen and involving the whole group. "Ever since you guys got split up and then came back together, you all have been acting strange. Like you aren't the same people as when you left. Like you aren't a family. And I know different. You, well, all of us actually, are closer than some families and most of us are closer to each other than our own families. But ever since you guys came home, it's like you were replaced with replicas. Poor, cheap, emotionless replicas. You especially, Gibbs."

Abby looked at him then, knowing that he had been pushing them away for reasons she couldn't even guess. Putting her hand on his desk, she leaned towards him. "I want my family back. I want Ziva and Tony teasing and play fighting and finding ways of irritating each other. I want Tim acting like a complete computer geek and newbie even though he's been here for years, because Tony will make up some weird version of his last name or call him Probie. I want Ducky to come up here and tell long stories that we all have heard a million times, but still listen to anyway because it's Ducky. And I want you, Gibbs, to laugh again, to smile every once in a while. I want you to growl when your team gets a bit out of hand, even though you know you love hearing them. You guys are killing me with your silent stares and your empty conversations. I want you back. I want my family back, Gibbs."

Gibbs just looked at her for a long moment, astounded at her audacity, a little touched by how protective she was. "Abbs…" he started in a warning tone. Next thing Tony'd start blathering about some movie. He had to get out of here before he made things worse.

"Well, I want coffee," he said, standing and striding quickly to the elevator, kissing Abby on the cheek as he passed. He couldn't let them see how emotionally involved he was.

Tony blinked a few times and then got up, coming around to give Abby a hug. "Not trying to be pod Tony, Abby," he said, a bit saddened by the way Gibbs had just left. "It's like he's given up on us," Tony said quietly.

Abby watched Gibbs walk around her, stunned into silence at his dismissal of her. As the elevator doors slid closed, she was only vaguely aware of Tony gathering her up in his arms. On the edges of her hearing, she could tell that Ziva and Tim had gotten up and were coming towards her. Her eyes filled with tears she didn't even try to flick away.

Laying her head on Tony's shoulder, she pulled Ziva in closer before she felt Tim's arms wrap around her from behind. "Why is he being so cold, Tony? What happened that changed him so drastically? He's never been that…that… mean." She had no better words for it, for his behavior. It was like he was deliberately trying to push them out of his life.

Hating to see her friend in pain, Ziva brushed her hand over Abby's hair. "I do not believe he was trying to be mean, Abby. I think there is much more going on than we realize. When he is ready, Gibbs will tell us."

Looking Ziva in the eyes, Abby asked, "How can you be so sure? I've never seen him like this."

"He's scared too, Abby," Tony began, though he wasn't sure if he was on or off base here. "He lost the director, then all of us…" Tony paused, looking at McGee, who had filled him in on the basics. "Then one of his team turned out to be a mole and one of the other team members had to shoot him. That's gotta be shaking the Boss up, Abby. Maybe he's just running scared."

Tony sighed into her hair. He'd tried to talk to Gibbs a bit, but he'd gotten nowhere. Neither of them were feelings guys, which made it even harder. "When he was looking for Ari, he got real distant, remember?"

"Yeah, but he hasn't been with me, Tony. He was still…Gibbs with me. Remember? Remember when Ari shot at me and he came busting in even though the bullets had come flying into my lab and you were shielding me and he…he was still Gibbs with me. Still protective and caring. Not mean. Never mean with me, Tony."

And that's what scared Abby the most. No matter how bad things got, Gibbs would always turn to her and treat her…well, special. She couldn't lose Gibbs.

"What has him so scared, Tony?"

"I know he was like that with you back then, Abby. But he's older now and more hardened. With the director dying the way she did…" And the fact that Tony himself was responsible…

"Trusting again. Letting people in. Gibbs isn't like that any more, Abby," Tony added when the others didn't speak.

Worried that Abby might try something drastic, Ziva stepped back and tried think of how to show her that things would go back to normal. "It will work how it always works, Abby. One day at a time, one case at a time. Gibbs will come out of whatever this is. He will be the Gibbs who kisses you on the cheek."

"Who brings you Caf-Pow," Tim offered, following Ziva's train of thought. "He just…needs some time. He was really close to the director, Abby. And when she died and everyone left…he was different. You know how different he was. But he'll come back." Confident, he went back to his desk, hopeful that Abby would just…let it go.

"They're right, Abbs. He just took a hard hit with the director's death and then this thing with Langer betraying the team and NCIS . He'll bounce back. He always does."

"It's different this time, Tony. And I've got to do something about it. I can't let him push us away like that. I just can't." Her course of action would be strange, different, but totally hers. And she may need her friends to help.

"He's the center of us, Tony. It won't work without him," she pleaded, watching Ziva and Tim go back to their desks.

"I know." Abby had hit on what Tony was so worried about. "I'll keep trying to talk to him, Abby. I've tried to talk with him a couple of times. Give me time to work with him…" Tony sighed, tilting her head up and looking into her eyes. "What do you think? Tell me what your plan is, Abbs."

"No, Tony." Determined now on her plan of action, she pushed her hands against Tony's chest and put distance between the two of them. She wouldn't bring the rest in on her flight of fancy, as Gibbs would call it. "No, I don't have a plan." Abby was a terrible liar, but she was stubborn.

Tony arched a brow, knowing she was going to go over to Gibbs' place. "Your funeral," he warned gently. "Gibbs isn't going to want to talk, Abbs. I've been going over there and trying…" He stroked Abby's hair. "Why don't the four of us go out, get a pizza and some beer?" He met Ziva's and then McGee's eyes, giving them an encouraging look.

"He'll talk, Tony. He'll talk to me." Looking over at the other two, she said, "I can't, not when things are like this. But you three go. Please. Have some fun, and damn it, I want the three of you back to your normal selves tomorrow. Got it?" She put on her best Gibbs impression, hoping to at least get a laugh or a smile.

Leaning back in the chair, Ziva promised, "I will be my normal self, Abby. We all will. I suspect even Gibbs will be when you are done with him. But I think I will go home tonight. I have… a lot to think over." Giving them all a smile, Ziva grabbed her pack and headed out.

"Ziva, wait. Dinner… on me. Come on, Probie, you're invited too. She's right. We haven't…" Tony shrugged. "A lot has changed. We need to try…We need to try…"

Tony slipped into the elevator, giving Ziva a penetrating look. "You know it. Something happened to you when we were all apart and I need to know."

Tim gave Abby a hard hug, looking deep into her eyes. They'd given up on being an item a long time ago – he'd always suspected she really had a thing for Gibbs anyhow – but they were closer for all of that. "Bring him back to us, Abbs. It's worse than when he was nice to us."

Giving her one last smile, he followed the others. "Coming, Tony."

Abby watched the elevator close behind her friends and took a deep breath. Walking over to Gibbs' desk, she talked to it like she was talking to its owner. "I'm going to fix this, Gibbs. One way or another." Reaching over, she clicked off his lamp.

~*~

Walking up to his home, Abby almost knocked, which just reminded her how much everything had changed. Tilting up her chin, she gathered her courage and walked through the door. Not finding him upstairs, she guessed he was with his boat.

Hearing sounds below her in the basement, she went down the stairs towards them. "Gibbs?"

He'd gotten coffee and retreated home, almost locking the door. Gibbs knew DiNozzo would be by at some point and he didn't want to deal with the looks, the silence that wasn't Tony, wincing as the man took as many hits of bourbon as he did.

But something stopped him from locking up and he'd only been downstairs working on _Kelly_ for twenty minutes when he heard Abby's voice and her platform heels as she clomped down the stairs. "Abbs?" he said, trying like hell to keep his voice remote.

"Hey, Gibbs." Making it to the bottom of the steps unharmed despite her awkwardly high shoes, Abby wrapped her arms around her body, suddenly unsure of what to do. She'd been so determined, so focused on helping him that she hadn't thought of the consequences if he didn't want that help. But she didn't care. Nothing mattered so long as he came back to her.

"How… how's the _Kelly_ going? When do you think you'll have her seaworthy?"

He winced at the use of his daughter's name, even though he knew Abby was referring to the vessel and not the child. "Working on the cabin," he said, motioning to it. "Should be done in a month or so." He still hadn't worked out if he'd sail her or not. But this one he'd never burn. It meant a hell of a lot to him, built with love rather than revenge or anger.

Nodding, she walked over to the boat, running a hand along the smoothed and varnished side. Turning to him, she tried to start, "Gibbs, I…" but chickened out. Moving along the edge of the boat, she appreciated the smooth layers, the hard work, the dedication to a memory. But would that memory force him to be alone forever?

"You what?" Gibbs asked quietly. He retreated to the workbench and poured himself a bourbon, swirling the jar before he looked up at her. He knew she had a lot to say, and from experience, she'd expand on whatever was on her mind in her own time. And he wouldn't be able to stop her.

He eyed her, cataloguing the saddened look in her eyes, watching her carefully. And waiting.

Taking a deep breath, she almost wished she could down one of his bourbons. But this was not the moment to be drunk. Not for something as important as this.

"Gibbs… I want to know why you left. Why, when I said all that today about wanting my family back, you made some glib comment about coffee and left. It hurt, Gibbs. You've never rejected me before, not like that. And this wasn't the first time. Since the team's been back, you've pushed yourself away. No one can get near you. What happened, Gibbs? I want… I need to know. Please," she ended on a whisper, begging him to let her in.

"Didn't reject you, Abbs." This wasn't about Abby, even though she felt it was. "Had to get some space from them," he told her, being as honest as he dared. There was no way he was getting close to his team again. Even though he tried to keep quiet, even as he knew the words were flowing out, he tried to stem them.

"Langer used to spend a couple nights a month down here when he was on my team. Considered him a friend. Then he betrayed NCIS and our country." And something still seemed so wrong about that. Gibbs' gut was still churning. "I had a traitor to my country here in the basement. I trained a traitor. He was a friend."

"But that doesn't mean any of the others will betray you. Or that I will betray you, Gibbs." She closed her eyes as she remembered her reaction to losing Langer to Lee's bullet. Despite him being a traitor, Abby couldn't help being upset at his death. She was losing too many of them. "Langer was good at getting people to trust him, to make them believe what he needed them to. I liked Langer. A lot. And when Lee shot him… But that doesn't mean I could try and push Tony or Ziva or Tim away now, 'cause there may be some improbable, random chance in a million that they could do the same thing. I would never believe that you would do it. But you can't believe that about me? About your team?"

Walking along the length of the boat, she stopped when she was in front of him. "Please don't push us, push me away, Gibbs."

"Langer was a friend," Gibbs shot back, more emotionally than he'd intended. "Langer was a damned good friend who screwed this agency and the country, Abby!" Gibbs didn't know if he could verbalize what he was wanted to say, but he had to try. She had it all wrong.

"Vance used my affection for the team to get what he wanted. And Ziva and Lee almost died. Got too close, Abbs. Can't get too close to my agents again." And Jenny had died because of their closeness, but Gibbs couldn't admit that to anyone. "Not pushing you away, Abby."

Wincing, she took a step back at his tirade. "Yes, Gibbs. Yes, you have. Do you realize how long it's been since you kissed me on the cheek, other than tonight, or brought me a Caf-Pow or snuck up on me? And don't you know how much your… coldness is affecting your agents? They don't work with you because you're a cold, unfeeling bastard, Gibbs. They work with you because you're the best, you make them the best, and you care about them."

"And that made my agents weak," Gibbs said quietly. It was a hell of a lot to deal with and he wasn't an emotions guy. Despite how things had gone down and the distance between him and Jenny at the end, he felt responsible for her death. And then the team getting split up, the mole….

"They're agents, Abby. They need a boss, not…" Not what he'd become. "But you're different. You need me…" And I need you, Gibbs added silently. He leaned in, kissing her cheek gently, hugging her briefly but tightly.

"And you need me," she finished for him. As soon as he hugged her, she relaxed against him, some of the weight lifting as she pulled him in tighter. He tried to make it a brief hug, but she wasn't having it. Still holding onto him, she denied part of his statement. "Your agents are not weak, Gibbs. Be their boss, but don't be a jerk while you're doing it. 'Kay?"

"Okay." It was easier to agree rather than argue it. "Who sent you over here? DiNozzo? Or did you come on your own?" He knew tonight was bowling night and she didn't turn away from that very easily. "I'm okay, Abbs. Kelly and I are gonna spend the night together. You have plans, I know your schedule.'

"I came on my own, even though I _had _plans. You were more important." She wasn't fooled by him, his 'okay' a way to placate her. "I came on my own. They offered, even warned me, but… it wouldn't have helped, would it?"

Panic had taken a permanent home in her breast, a desperation to see Gibbs happy driving her. His sadness was killing her as slowly and painfully as it was killing his spirit. Not for her relief, but for his heart, Abby had to do all that was necessary to see him happy for once.

"Tony sits here a couple times a week. He wants to talk but…" Gibbs shrugged. He and DiNozzo were not talkers or emotion guys. So Gibbs poured a huge jar of bourbon and Tony downed it, sitting silently and watching him work.

"Don't want to see them," he told her, brutal honesty in his words. "Just need time with my girls." He meant the boat and his memories.

Abby wasn't such a fool to think he meant her in that statement, but more than likely included her with the group he didn't want. Taking a step back, feeling defeat pulling her down, she looked at him with tears in her eyes. "You won't let yourself be happy, will you? You'll always put a barrier up between you and everyone else, won't you?"

He stroked his hand over the wood, calming himself, soothing himself. "As happy as it gets." He didn't remember bouts of happiness since he'd lost his girls. Reaching out, he stroked Abby's hair. "Not you, Abbs. Never you. Make me smile."

You could be so much happier, Gibbs, Abby thought. You deserve to be. You deserve to be loved and to have someone to love. Closing her eyes, she turned into his touch, a part of her wishing she could be the one to make him whole again. But in her heart, she knew there was only one person who could do that. And she'd been dead for years. "Wish I could do more for you, Gibbs. I wish I could take your pain away."

"There was someone who did. Once," he said, turning away as emotion welled up inside him. He stared at the ground, trying to master his emotions, not understanding why it was all exploding from him all of a sudden. "Abby…you can't fix anything," he told her, being paternal and gentle. "You can't make things right… Nobody can…"

He was being more honest than he had with anyone in years.

Something shiny caught her eye and a seed of an idea started forming in the complex workings of Abby's mind. Maybe there was a way, she thought. Silently, she slipped the flask into her bag before turning to him. Hearing the plea in his voice, she walked up behind him, wrapping her arms around him. "Maybe I can't, but I won't stop trying, Gibbs. I can't, I won't give up on you. It breaks my heart to see you hurting, you know?"

"Abbs, I'm okay," he promised quietly. "Don't need to worry about me. I'm okay." He shrugged a little disarmingly. "You have plans tonight. Go bowling. I'm gonna…" He stroked the wood. "Gonna spend some time here. Sooner I get her done, sooner I can get her out on the water." And maybe someday he'd invite Abby along for a sail.

"Ha, telling me not to worry about you is like telling you to stop drinking coffee. Not going to happen." Releasing him, she walked around to face him, her eyes welling with unshed tears. "You know if you need me…. Any time…"

"Hey… what's wrong?" She had a tendency to get emotional, but this was a bit more than he'd expected. "Abbs, come on. It'll be fine and I'll even take ya to lunch tomorrow. Just you and me." Like old times, but not quite, because as much as he was willing to let her in, he still walled himself off.

Wiping the tears away from her eyelashes, she gave him a pathetic smile, but the best she could do right then. "I just…hate seeing you hurting. And I hate seeing you alone. Not alone in your basement having some private time, but alone alone. Lunch then. Just you and me." Giving him a hard hug, she tried to tell herself that everything would be alright, that despite all odds, happiness would find Leroy Jethro Gibbs one day.

"Don't worry so much. I'm not hurting. I'm okay. I like being alone." Since Shannon, he'd learned to embrace being solitary. "Not a bad thing for me. Now get going and leave me to it."

He gentled his words with a wink.

"Too much alone is not good, Gibbs. Companionship feeds the soul. Remember that. I'll leave you to your boat. She is beautiful and I don't mind your need to be alone with her. But I'm holding you to lunch tomorrow." She smiled at him again, this time weighted less by sadness. Instead, the sadness was replaced by a kernel of determination.

"Lunch. Don't pick up a Caf-Pow in the morning. I'll bring you one." It was his way of thanking her without saying the words.

"Thanks, Gibbs." Going up on her toes, she kissed him on the cheek, their own special gesture.

Sensing that she needed a little more, he signed that she was the greatest and then turned back to his workbench, knowing she could find her way out.

She watched him for a moment more, observing how he moved, the movements minimized for maximum efficiency. Still a Marine, even when he was trying to escape.

As silently as she could, she left his basement, his sanctuary, and headed outside to her car. Taking the flask out of her bag, she looked at it as it shone in the moonlight. "Whatever I can do, I'll find you happiness, Gibbs. You're breaking my heart."

Deciding she couldn't sleep and she really didn't want to bowl, Abby headed to the Navy Yard. She had some research and experimenting to do.

Gibbs sighed as she left, knowing he'd revealed far too much. He reached for his flask, growing concerned and even a little nervous when he realized he couldn't find it. He spent three hours tearing the basement apart, finally drinking a strong measure of bourbon from the bottle and collapsing into bed.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Slowly, she opened her eyes, staring in confusion at the silver blur in her hand. As her eyes focused, Abby realized it was a flask, Gibbs' flask. Sitting up slowly, she tried to piece together what had happened the night before.

She was sitting on the floor inside a pagan circle, candles that had burned down to the bottom surrounded the circle in five points, white sand drawing out the design. She sat there, rubbing her thumb against the smooth silver of the flask.

Abby remembered going to see Gibbs, talking to him, trying to comfort him and then leaving Gibbs' house defeated. She had come back to the Navy Yard, back to her lab. She'd researched and explored, trying to find any way she could help him. Finally, she had come across a website that had detailed a…spell, for lack of a better word. And in a last ditch, desperate moment, she had attempted it. Working on the directions, she had sought out the needed items, creating the drawing she printed out. Once she was done, she had taken her place in the middle.

Sitting down, she held the flask in one hand and tried to find what to do next on the instructions. But there was nothing, no words, no séance. Frustrated, she tossed the words aside and held the flask to her chest.

"I need help. To whoever is listening, please. Gibbs deserves so much more than he has. He's lost his wife, his little girl. He's trusted people and was betrayed. He's tried to find love again, or just someone to find companionship with. But it's never worked. He needs her. Gibbs needs Shannon. But he can't have her. He's just so lost, not loving, not trusting. Please, please help him." But nothing happened; no swoosh of air or flicker of candles.

After she'd spoken the words from her heart, Abby had almost given up, defeat setting in. Desperate, she gave it one last try, holding Gibbs' face in her mind, and then she felt the flask heat up. Before she could even work up the need to examine the flask, she'd slid into unconsciousness.

And then she'd woken up here, on the floor. "God, I'm a fool sometimes," she moaned, standing up. Pain shot through her body as blood rushed into places that had fallen asleep. Rolling her eyes, Abby put the flask on her desk next to her computer and set about cleaning up her lab. Looking at the time, she put a rush on her movements, hoping Gibbs would be in soon with his promised Caf-Pow.

~*~

L.J. "Jet" Gibbs' head hurt. He'd been training men late into the night, had come home, and collapsed in bed without even changing clothes. He'd taken a lot of body blows yesterday, but nothing to the head. Even as elite as the men he was training were, he was still one step faster, his reactions honed by his time as a Marine and used every day.

He blinked his eyes open and ran a hand through his hair, looking around in confusion. This wasn't his house in Northern Virginia, it was an office building and not _his_ office. The company he co-owned didn't have cubicles, for one, and the bright wall color hurt his eyes.

He looked over as two men approached, one in a suit and the other in a sports coat and a button down dress shirt. He was way underdressed in worn but comfortable jeans and a casual button-down shirt, though the brand was designer. Before he could speak, explain himself, the men approached.

Walking over to his desk, Tim greeted Gibbs. "Hey, Boss. Good morning. You're here early." Putting his bag on the ground, he unhooked his gun and badge, putting them in a drawer. Scooting his chair up to his desk, he tapped a few keys and then waited for his computer to come up. Looking up, he saw Ziva coming out of the elevator. When she got to her desk, she smiled at him.

"Good morning, Tim. Tony. Morning, Gibbs. How is everyone today?" Looking closely at Gibbs, she asked him in confusion, "Gibbs? What did you do to yourself? You seem…different. Your hair is darker, and your face…" Leaving her pack on her desk, she walked up to him. She leaned on the desk, eyeing him closely.

_Boss_? They thought he was their boss? Before he had enough intel to formulate a coherent answer, the woman was at his desk. None of this made sense, but he wouldn't tip his hand yet, not until he knew what was going on. When the woman said his hair was darker, he reached up, fingering a few strands. What was wrong with it?

"My face?" he asked, arching a brow.

"Zeevah," Tony drawled. "Boss." When Ziva asked what Bossman had done with himself, Tony took a close look at Gibbs, coughing to hide his gasp of shock. Bossman's hair was dark, mostly pepper and only a little salt and his hair wasn't high and tight any more. It was short and a little on the spiky side. It was Gibbs, but he looked different—really different.

And it wasn't just the hair. There was something about the way he was sitting, too. Tony gave McGee and then Ziva a long look. "Anyone want to call Duck and Abbs?" he asked casually, wondering if they were seeing the same strangeness he was.

"Why do we need to call Ducky and Abby?" Tim looked between Ziva and Tony, not understanding what was happening between the agents. But when Ziva gave him a look filled with danger that caused a tremor to shake through his body, Tim turned to his phone and dialed Ducky first.

They wanted to call a duck? Jet didn't understand. "Hey, what about my face," he demanded, looking at the woman, knowing his eyes must be blazing.

Tony immediately stepped between them, even though he knew he didn't need to protect Ziva from Gibbs. Normally anyway. Something about this made him worry and Tony was afraid there was a powder keg waiting to explode. "I'm calling Abbs, Ziva…"

Ducky was puttering around in Autopsy when his phone rang. "Hello?" he asked.

"Hey Ducky, it's Tim. Do you think you could come up to the squad room?" Moving closer to the receiver, he whispered, "It's kind of important."

"Why yes, of course, my dear boy. What seems to be the problem?" Ducky asked, concerned. "You haven't been out on a call this morning, have you?"

"No, Ducky. Nothing like that. Something's wrong…with Gibbs," he whispered urgently.

"Oh," Ducky said, comprehension dawning. "I'll be right up then, Timothy." Ducky hung up the phone and rushed to the elevator, punching the button anxiously.

Tony gave Ziva a significant look as he dialed Abby. As she picked up, he began talking in a low, urgent tone, expecting to feel the head slap at any moment. "Squad room, now. You think he was bad yesterday. It's worse today."

"What's wrong?" Abby asked quickly, nervous breaths catching in her throat. Putting the flask into her pocket, she hopped off her chair. "Tony? What's wrong with Gibbs?" Abby was worried suddenly that her experiment, her attempt at finding Gibbs happiness had gone wrong. _Of course not, Sciuto_, she berated herself. _You can't actually do that stuff._

"Don't know exactly. But…get up here, Abbs. Gotta see it to believe it," Tony said.

"I'm on my way, Tony. Just… don't do anything stupid." What was going on up there? Was it her fault? And Abby knew, down in her gut, that whatever was going wrong upstairs had some direct link with what she had done in her lab.

"Not planning to," Tony said, disconnecting and just in the nick of time.

~*~

Jet had had enough and stood, rounding the desk and looming over the woman. "You deaf? _What_ about my face?"

The threat pushed her too far and Ziva was already too on edge. Something was drastically wrong, and when Gibbs rounded on her like he was going to throw a punch, Ziva reacted on her purely trained instinct. Kicking out her leg, she dropped him. Stepping on his neck, she pulled out her Sig. "Who are you? And what the hell is going on here?"

A part of him—the warrior part—was impressed with her. The other part was deeply concerned. He had no idea who she was or why he was here and he was at a complete disadvantage. He used some of the techniques he taught police, military, and federal agents and soon had her disarmed and on her back, his forearm pressing against her windpipe for a moment, before he stood.

Tony had no idea what the hell was going on, but when Gibbs disarmed Ziva, he pulled his Sig out, aiming it with shaking hands at their boss. "Get away from her, Gibbs. Now. Don't make us hurt you."

It was very rare for Ziva to have her gun taken away from her. And as impressed as she was, it didn't keep her from feeling pissed. Spinning in a circle, she kicked Gibbs' legs out from under him, and with the other leg, kicked her gun out from his hands. Stepping back, she pulled out her backup from her ankle and trained it on him.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Tim jumping up and hesitating. No one wanted to pull their guns on Gibbs. But this… this just didn't seem like Gibbs. Something was very, very wrong.

As she kicked his legs out and he fell in a trained fall, Jet pulled his own weapon out, aiming it at the one who wasn't moving fast enough. "You might take me out, but I'll nail one of you first. Who the hell are you and what do you want?"

"Put the gun down, Gibbs," Tony roared in his best 'Gibbs voice.' "Ziva, stand down. Probie… you too. This is Gibbs, I'll cover him." Even though Tony said the words, he knew something was very wrong. This wasn't the man who had left last night. Even so, he had to maintain control somehow.

"Everyone, settle down," Tony said, trying to regain calmness.

Despite his orders, neither one of them were going to drop their weapons. Ziva raised hers up a hairsbreadth as she moved slowly into a position that would have the three of them in a half moon shape around Gibbs. She could easily take him out before he pulled the trigger. Everyone in the room knew that. Everyone but the Gibbs who was not Gibbs. But deep down, she didn't know if she'd be able to pull the trigger.

"Stand down, Ziva! That is an order," Tony tried, but she still wasn't listening. "Gibbs, put the gun away."

"Hell no. I look like an idiot?"

"No…" Tony sighed, trying to figure out a way through this.

Ducky was jamming the elevator button by the time it had arrived, carrying a very worried Abigail. "Abby, have you any idea what is going on? Timothy said something is the matter with Jethro."

"God, Ducky. I think I screwed up. Well, I don't know if I screwed up. But if something's wrong with Gibbs, if something's really hinky, I think… I think it's my fault."

"What did you do, dear girl?" Ducky asked, but they'd arrived on the floor and he stepped out to see. "Oh, dear," Ducky said quietly. A man with dark hair and Jethro's build stood with his back to them and Tony had his gun trained on the man. "Abby… you need to leave." He presumed Jethro was hurt and lying on the ground somewhere.

"Oh, God. No!" Abby cried. Pushing her way past Ducky, she ignored his command and charged into the melee. Even as different as he was, Abby still recognized Gibbs. Standing in front of Gibbs, she put herself in between him and all the guns. _Probably not a smart idea, Sciuto_, she thought to herself as she noticed the tension vibrating in the room.

Tim's gun wavered as Abby put herself in the path of any bullet. "Abby, no!"

"Abby, move!" Tony said, realizing how much they'd lost control of the situation. "Abby, get away, you're not helping."

"Move it," the guy told Abby and Tony winced. There was nothing of Gibbs in his voice. "You wanna get killed?"

Ducky was finding it uncharacteristically hard to form words and coherent thoughts. "Jethro, my dear boy. Whatever is the problem?" He noted that Gibbs' appearance had changed somewhat, and it didn't look like a trick of the lighting.

"Who are you people?"

"Boss... it's us," Tony said, trying to keep his voice gentle. Had Gibbs lost his memory again? But even if so, that didn't explain the darker hair, the less weathered face.

Turning around, Abby looked at him, her face closer to him than all the others. Keeping her eyes soft and her face relaxed, she stared into his eyes and saw nothing of the man she knew and loved. This was an entirely different person, younger, harder in ways that the other Gibbs was not.

She felt the team surge forward slightly, though they didn't charge. Ignoring the primal instinct to survive, she curled her hand over the barrel of the gun, wrapping around his hand as well.

"No, I don't want to die. I'd rather stay in one piece, sans any of those bullets you guys are ready to fling. But I think the situation has gotten out of hand. Don't you all?" she asked, breaking his eye contact and looking at everyone around her. She was scared out of her mind, but there was no way she was going to let the situation get any worse.

"Please." She looked back at him, at the new Gibbs, looked him dead in the eyes and hoped he would believe her. "Please, put the gun down. We can figure out what's going on here. I promise."

Jet was in complete fight or flight mode and instinct told him to shoot through the woman, but there was something in her green eyes that made him listen, that made him loosen his grip on his weapon. "Who are you people?" he asked focusing only on her and stowing his weapon slowly. "How the hell did I get here and where the hell is here? And how come you all know me but I don't know you?"

Tony shot an uneasy look toward Ziva, but lowered his own gun when Gibbs did. He didn't know what was going on with the man, but the more he studied him, the more he realized that this wasn't the Gibbs they knew.

"Who is he?" Ducky whispered and all Tony could do was shrug.

Reluctantly, Ziva lowered her weapon as well, seeing Tim storing his. Keeping one eye on the imposter, she walked slowly to her gun. Putting her backup away, she grabbed her Sig, checking for damage.

Tim's hands were shaking in fear and anger as he watched Abby standing in front of the man. She could have been hurt. She could have been shot! But typical Abby, she ran head first into the situation without thinking of her safety.

Giving a big sigh of relief, Abby smiled at the younger version of Gibbs. Answers were starting to filter through her mind as all the possibilities of what had happened ran like lightning through her synapses. "My name's Abby. And this is…this is everyone. Look, it's probably not a good idea to talk here," she said, gesturing to all the agents around them at the ready, wondering what had gotten into the team. "If you can…trust that everything will be okay, we could all go somewhere quiet and talk this out. I promise, no Wild West shootouts. Please?"

Jet looked at her for a long moment, studying her eyes and trying to read the truth there. Pulling in a sharp breath, he nodded, motioning for her to lead the way. He'd follow, but he'd stay wary and aware for now. Especially of the other woman and the guy who appeared to be the leader.

"If she pulls a gun on me again, I'm shooting first, asking questions later," he warned.

Breathing another sigh of relief, she nodded. "Don't worry. She won't. Well, at least I think she won't." Abby knew she couldn't really promise that. But the situation had to be worked out before someone ended up dead.

"Make sure she won't," Jet shot back.

Biting on her lower lip, Abby didn't know what to say to ease the situation. "She won't," she repeated, trying to sound more confident. "Ducky? Do you have any guests? Could we use autopsy?"

"No… no guests at all, Abigail. I…well, yes, very well then," he stammered. "Mr. Palmer will be in later today and it is quiet at present, though, of course that can, and often does, change."

"Ducky…" Tony warned, giving Abby a look. She seemed to know more about this than all of them combined.

"Autopsy?" Jet asked, balking. "Don't think so. Me alone. All of you. In a room with however many weapons, scalpels, blade saws. No… that isn't happening. Find a better place." He folded his arms over his chest, maintaining his cool, but only barely.

"How 'bout my lab? Though I don't know if you'd feel safe in there, or anywhere, for that matter. But there are lots of windows and two ways in or out. Maybe not so trapped?" she offered.

"I don't feel trapped. I just want to know what the hell is going on. All of a sudden I was…here. Not my house, not my bed. You're all calling me by my name, but I don't know you."

Hell, was he losing his mind?

"We don't know you either," Tony remarked. "Though you look like someone we know. Abbs, is the picture still on your phone? Show him. Show him the picture on your phone." Tony was feeling desperate. This guy was on the knife's edge and they didn't need to push him, especially since they knew he had a gun on him.

"What about outside in the park?" Ducky suggested. "Lots of open spaces…"

"Enough," Ziva ordered. "We need to contain the situation. Abby's lab. Less likely to be overheard or interrupted. She will show you the picture and we will talk. And I promise not to pull my gun on you again. Abby, lead the way."

He wasn't about to take orders from her. Her least of all. "No. How do I get out of here? I'll figure it out myself then." He wasn't a "situation" to be contained. Hell, he wasn't even interested in dealing with her, period, end of story.

"You," he told the girl who was mediating. "You and one other person but not her. I'll talk to you and you alone."

"Tony, then." Looking at Tony, she asked, "What about the conference room, since there are only three of us now?"

Tony nodded. "Yeah… yeah, that works. Everyone just stay here, don't gossip."


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Gibbs hardly ever awoke slowly, but it must have been the bourbon or the emotion of the night. He burrowed in, finding his bed softer and more comfortable than normal. He had such a hard mattress and this…

Gibbs's eyes flew open. These weren't his sheets. This wasn't his room! He sat bolt upright, looking around. Sunlight streamed in through curtained windows, lighting a large room, one he'd never seen before. He knew damned well he'd gone to bed in his own room last night, the nautical comforter draped over him. And yet now he had something that was green with black.

Rubbing a hand over his jaw, Gibbs padded to the window, his feet getting lost in a thicker carpet pile than he had. The street wasn't the same—nothing was the same. What the hell had happened to him?

He stood stock still, straining, trained hearing sharpened. There were no voices, nothing particularly out of the ordinary inside the house. Besides him.

Gibbs walked cautiously out of the bedroom, checking the other rooms he passed, wishing he had his weapon. By the time he got to the front hallway, he knew for certain he was alone. He started researching, finding a desk and digging through it. There was no wallet, though there were house keys and spare change…and a bunch of letters waiting to be mailed. Glancing at the return address, Gibbs stopped stock still.

"L. J. Gibbs?" he said quietly, rifling through the mail. It was all there, bills, personal correspondence, a letter from someone named Lauren directed to "Jet," who thanked him for going to Jessica's piano recital. Business checkbook for Gibbs Consulting. There were framed pictures of a man who was almost his double on the walls. He glanced at the computer, wondering if he could do some research when the phone rang. He stood there frozen, listening as the answering machine message came on and his voice spoke back.

"Gibbs. Either not here now or I'm avoiding you. Leave a message," the machine recited in _his _voice, and his hand itched with the urge to grab the phone and answer it. But he'd get some intel first, he had to go carefully here until he figured all of this out.

"Hey, L.J. This is Kelli, your personal assistant. I'm just reminding you, in case you've forgotten who I am, since you're about two hours late for work and haven't called in yet." Her Jersey accent lent to the sarcasm in her voice. "I figure you probably had a late night. But you usually call me to let me know so I can pick you up, since your head is usually killing you in the morning. Did you really have that much last night? Man, you really need to learn how to moderate yourself. In any case, I'm on my way over. You better be ready to go in like five minutes. You've got a big meeting with the new contract at one. See ya soon!"

He scrambled for the phone, the only thing registering was that name on the phone. "Kelly?" he asked, his voice a little shaky. She sounded nothing like his daughter, had a completely different accent but when he heard the name, he had to try.

"I… what's going on?" He heard the words, but he didn't comprehend what she was saying.

"Hey Boss! Welcome to the world. How's the head?" Slamming the car door, Kelli looked at herself in the side mirror, fluffing her hair and checking her makeup. She may just be his personal assistant but L.J. Gibbs was rich, young, handsome and she had her eyes set on becoming more than just the girl who picked up his laundry.

"Head… I…" He didn't even know how to answer her. He latched on to something she'd said earlier. "You're coming here?" He heard a car door slam and walked to the window. "That you in the black sedan?"

"Well, yeah, L.J. You expecting someone else?" A stab of jealousy ran through her, but she ignored it. Any new minx coming through his bed never stayed long enough to make an impression on his pillow. Kelli was in it for the long haul. She wanted a ring on her finger; a big shiny, weigh-your-finger-down ring.

"No," he said hoarsely and then disconnected, opening the front door and waiting for her to come up the path. She looked absolutely nothing like his little girl, something he was very thankful for.

"Kelli?" he asked, giving her an intense look.

"God, Boss. How much did you have last night? Of course it's Kelli. You losing your sight now too?" she asked, pushing her way into the house. Walking into the kitchen, she opened the fridge like she owned the place. Pulling out a bottled water, she closed the door. Leaning against it, she opened the drink, eyeing him closely.

She pushed off from the appliance, she walked up to him, really looking at him. "What the hell happened to you? You look like you've aged fifteen years…"

"Don't…know." He pulled in a breath, trying to focus. He moved over to the coffee pot, a complicated electric number, and started hitting buttons, cursing when he couldn't figure it out. "Need some help here!"

Once he had some caffeine in him, he'd start grilling her.

Rolling her eyes, she sauntered up to the coffee maker, checking to see if there was coffee inside. Hitting a few buttons, she got the machine going. Turning around, she quipped, "You need someone to take care of you, L.J. Seriously."

Moving closer to him, she reached out, straightening his t-shirt. "Why aren't you dressed yet?" She shook her head in mock frustration. Smoothing out the shoulders, she looked up into his eyes, her pale blue-grey eyes narrowing slightly in concentration, though she avoided too much facial movement; have to protect from wrinkles after all.

"Damn, Boss. What the hell happened to you? You're all grey and wrinkled. Whatever you did last night, you seriously need to stop. Your body obviously can't handle it."

"Said that before," he remarked. "You know me…" He shrugged. "Pretend we don't know each other. Pretend I'm a stranger." He ran his hand over his jaw, scraping over stubble. "Pretend I've forgotten everything. And then maybe you can… Oh, I dunno…" He shrugged, giving her a look that usually worked on most women that predatory. "Help me get cleaned up."

"Oh, L.J. What am I going to do with you?" Taking an over-exaggerated breath, she gave him an appreciative smile. Even looking unexpectedly older, he still could bring her to her knees with a look. "Why don't you go get a shower? I'll find some clothes for you for this afternoon's meeting." Turning him around, she gave him a slap on his ass, his nice firm ass. "Now, get going."

She hadn't answered a damned thing and he hadn't had his coffee yet. "What's the matter? You don't want to play that game?" he asked, rummaging in the sink and rinsing out a mug.

He filled and sipped it, watching her. Slipping into a flirtatious persona to get information shouldn't have been this easy, but it was.

Her boss rarely turned his full charm on her and she could barely keep her wits about her with him using that smile on her. "Um, yeah. Yes, of course. You know how much I love games. What kinda game you wanna play?"

"Pretend I don't know a thing. Tell me all about myself. Pretend I have amnesia or that I don't know a thing. Tell me everything, every little secret. And what you like best. What…" he lowered his voice to a growl, "...turns you on."

"Ah, well, I happen to be very good at pretend. Let's see. Well, for starters, you're L.J. Gibbs, a former Marine, divorced, still friendly to your ex-wife and love your former step-daughter Jessica. You own Gibbs Consulting, an elite firm that deals with training security personnel. You have also have a contract with federal agencies to train law enforcement officers in combat and interrogation techniques." Taking a step back, she gave him a thorough looking over.

"As for what turns me on, you're a very good dresser, unlike your current ensemble. Normally, you have dark hair with only a tinge of silver. And it isn't normally so closely cut. You love to take your yacht and head down to the Mexican Riviera. And you've been promising to take me out on it someday."

Completely different. Money, though he'd been able to tell that from the feel of the sheets against his body. He glanced down, looking at the pajama pants and T-shirt. "Would it be better if I slept naked?" he asked, wanting to keep her off balance. It wouldn't be the first time he'd used sex appeal to interrogate someone. Okay, she wasn't a suspect, but she was someone who could give him some intel.

He ran a hand through his hair, pretending to be shocked at the length. "Don't know what happened to my hair. Must have been a hell of a night, Kelli. Sure we have to go to that meeting?"

He looked up towards the stairs, draining his coffee. "I'll wear whatever you choose for me. It's been a while since…Lauren…" It was Lauren, wasn't it? "Been a while since I've had a woman's touch." Yeah, Lauren thanked him for going to Jessica's event. The someone else….not _him_! They must be at least somewhat friendly if she was sending him a thank you note.

_This is just an undercover assignment._ _Don't get too deeply involved._

"Well, if it's a woman's touch you need, you know you just have to ask." The invite wasn't subtle, but Kelli wasn't a subtle girl. Her peroxide bleached hair, heavy makeup, and acrylic nails were a testament to that. "Then just head upstairs, stud. I'll be right behind you."

She couldn't believe her luck. Since the day he hired her, Kelli'd been trying to worm her way in. But she never could get him to turn that dangerous charm and those gorgeous blue eyes on her. When she'd read her horoscope this morning, it told her that today would change her outlook. Maybe it was finally coming true after all.

Gibbs arched a brow, giving her a slight wink and bounding up the stairs ahead of her. He was in deep here, but he'd do what he had to in order to figure out why there was some other guy with his face and his name in this house.

In rushing ahead, he was able to locate the bedroom, the huge attached bathroom and manipulate the dials on the shower. If she came in and took what she wanted…well, it was just sex. She wouldn't touch his heart. No one had for a lot of years.

Man must be in a rush, Kelli thought to herself. Wonder why…could he? Does he want me to join him? Kelli just couldn't believe her luck. Taking a quick look at herself in the mirror, definitely liking the picture she presented, she took off after him.

Walking as stealthily as she could in her three-inch stiletto heels, she found her way into his bedroom. Seeing the open bathroom door, she took her cue and stepped inside. "Now you mentioned something about a woman's touch?"


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Tony watched as Abby led the guy who looked like Gibbs, just younger, into the conference room, trailing behind them and closing the door. He sat across from where Abby and the guy were, trying to look unthreatening. The guy had taken down Ziva. Tony had no doubt that he could overpower him as well.

"Gonna tell me what the hell is going on here?" Jet growled.

"First, would it be okay if I asked you a few questions? We can tell you who we are first, if that makes it more…comfortable for you. But I need…to clarify some things. I need to refine my hypothesis before I can explain." Abby took a relaxed, non-threatening posture in the chair next to the Gibbs who wasn't Gibbs. She didn't want him to be more on edge than he already was.

"Refine a hypothesis?" he said, smirking despite the circumstances. "Ask. Not promising I'll answer. I'm at the disadvantage here." He deliberately placed his gun on the table as a sign of good faith, though they couldn't know he was so accomplished a fighter that he could take them out before they blinked.

"Yeah, a hypothesis. I'm a scientist. A forensics scientist." Looking over at Tony, she smiled, really appreciating him being there. Of all the people on the team, he had been there the longest, except for Ducky. But unlike Ducky, Tony had a gun and could protect her if things turned south. Granted, she didn't believe Gibbs would ever hurt her. But a cornered, threatened Gibbs trying to get his freedom? Yeah, she had to be careful.

He shook his head, amused. "Nice dress code there." Waiting for her to start asking the questions, he nodded, letting her talk in her own time. At least two on one made the odds much more in his favor.

This completely wasn't Gibbs, Tony knew that. Not only was the hair darker, he also looked a bit younger, as if life hadn't weighed down so hard on him. His energy was completely different and his eyes had a different light in them. The color was identical as well as the intensity, but the sadness wasn't there. What Tony had learned to identify as a part of Gibbs. Was he a twin? Younger brother? What?

"Yeah, um…I've always dressed this way. It's just me." Self-consciously, Abby brushed her hands down her black skirt. "Okay, let's see. What's your name? Where do you work? When were you born?"

He would be honest with her. Something told him he needed to be. "L.J. Gibbs, friends call me Jet. I have my own business in Northern Virginia. Born?" He wasn't sure why that mattered, but he'd humor her if it helped to get answers. "Born in 1967. Now your info."

Tony knew Gibbs was born in '59, not '67. "Anthony DiNozzo," he said, omitting his title for now. Until they knew what was going on, he didn't want to give too much info. "Born in '72. I work in this building, DC."

Her turn. "Well, you already know I'm a forensic scientist. My name is Abigail Sciuto, and I work here too, a few floors below. I was born in '76." Taking a breath, she knew her next question would be stranger. "What's…the last thing you remember?"

"Abigail. Forensic scientist." He nodded, clarity of thought returning, the wheels churning. "Walls are too bright to be ATF, FBI or DEA. And you're not regulation for any of those places. This isn't a medical lab and you guys carry guns. Who are you?"

Before she answered, he considered her question. "Sleeping. Going to bed. I had a really late work session, skipped dinner and drinks with the guys, went home, showered, went to bed." Hardly exciting. "You?"

"Well, I…never mind. That's actually… I'll get to that. And it's Abby. Don't know why I introduced myself as Abigail. I hate being called Abigail. Just Abby. And I'm not regulation any place. As for who we are…" She looked to Tony for confirmation that she should tell him. When he nodded, she turned back to their guest and continued. "We both work for NCIS, Naval Criminal Investigative Service, and you're actually in the NCIS headquarters."

Taking a moment, she hesitated, knowing the next part would be met by skepticism from both men. "How…open are you to things beyond our normal understanding?"

"Navy Yard?" he asked in surprise. "I worked with you guys just last year. Not…you guys. And not…here." He swallowed hard. "Is this where I find out how fucked up my life is?"

Biting on her lip, Abby faltered, suddenly wishing she could turn back time. "Here's what I know for sure. We work for, or under, a man named Leroy Jethro Gibbs. After serving in the Marines, after his wife Shannon and his daughter Kelly were murdered, Gibbs joined NCIS." Abby was using the blunt and hard facts of Gibbs' life to try and stir a memory. If there was something of Gibbs in this stranger, if it was amnesia and hair dye, Abby would be able to tell. Wouldn't she? Would she be able to tell if the Gibbs she knew was no longer there? Or was in fact somewhere else?

"Gibbs currently runs a high level team inside of NCIS, of which Tony is a part. Though I'm not specifically on that team, I do work closely with them, with Gibbs. Gibbs and I are…close." Abby had to turn away and catch her breath. The worst part was still coming up: explaining the unexplainable. Abby could hardly believe it herself. What would these men think?

Tony studied the man, watching him at first shake his head slightly, and then look curious and concerned, then puzzled and a little bit horrified. The guy got up, pacing as much as he could around the room, hand running through his hair. The gestures and body language were nothing like Gibbs. Tony knew it. He hoped Abbs did as well.

Jet took in everything she said, his dread growing every minute. Someone had his name but a completely different life.

"Shannon? Shannon from Stillwater?" he asked, latching on to the first thing she said that he recognized beyond his name…and Marine service. "Knew a Shannon. She wrote me when I was in…" Until he'd gone to Officer Candidate School and his life had taken a different turn. There had been an attraction to the girl who worked next door to the general store, but she had been two years older, very well off, and he'd been out of her league.

"My wife was named Lauren. No kids, stepdaughter named Jessica. Divorced eight years. Just saw them last week. Never been a federal agent, only work with them sometimes…"

He trailed off, rocking back on his heels and then looking out the window at the river. "What the hell is going on? If I had a double with my name, I'd know. And if he worked at NCIS, I'd sure as hell know. I train Feds at least a few times a month. Don't ya think someone would have said something?"

"Because you've never worked in the same place as the man we know. And it isn't a case of two people having the same name. He is you, just a bit older and with a different past." Abby held her hand up when he went to protest. Slowly, she stood, almost afraid of voicing her thoughts.

"I think what happened was my fault. You see, things have been turned end over end here. Agents reassigned, directors killed, a mole within NCIS, government secrets being sold. And the whole time, our boss, our Gibbs, has been putting the blame on himself. He has a tendency to do that. So, to prevent his agents from being reassigned again, he's holding himself at a distance, separating from them emotionally because he believed that he was putting them in jeopardy."

Abby looked over to Tony, knowing he still didn't know about what had happened when she'd gone over to Gibbs' place. "I don't think Gibbs was always this way, though the sense of honor was always there. But when his wife and little girl were murdered, he blamed himself: if he hadn't been at war…he should have protected them… And ever since, he's tried to find happiness."

War? What war could have happened in the recent past, Jet wondered, but he didn't ask that question yet.

Pulling the flask from her pocket, she fingered the bullet embedded in the silver. "I took this from him last night. He didn't know. God, I don't even know why I took it. All I know was that it was breaking my heart to see him in so much pain. I just wanted to find him some happiness, like he had with her. I just wanted Gibbs to have some peace." She looked up at Tony, her eyes beseeching him to understand.

"I came back to the lab last night, after leaving his place. I did some research on past lives, lost loves, rituals and chants, anything I could think of that would give me a chance to give him the possibility of finding happiness. I don't remember much after that. I know I performed some bastardized version of an ancient Celtic ritual, adjusted for this situation. After that…all I know is I woke up in the middle of a pagan life circle, clasping this," she explained, brandishing the flask. "And when Tony called me, telling me something was wrong with Gibbs, I knew. I just knew I had done something."

A tear slipped from her eye as she tried to explain. "It wasn't supposed to work. I never actually believed it would. I mean, I know everyone thinks I'm into witchcraft and all that, but I was only curious about it. I'm a scientist. I didn't think it had any merit. But now you're here and our Gibbs is gone and it's my fault."

"You did what?" Tony asked, recovering first. "Abby, you did what? Why? Why would you…" Then the implications hit him and he shook his head. "You can't think that you did that and he…" Tony gestured to the guy. "You can't think you created this, can you? Abbs, you're a scientist and…"

Tony trailed off, giving Abby a wide-eyed look.

Jet leaned over the table, angry now. "You did some ritual, some crap you had no right or business doing and yanked me here somehow? That what you're saying?" He didn't and wouldn't believe this. "You passed the NCIS psych exams and work here?" he asked, still shocked.

He didn't want to believe it had happened, it didn't make sense. Then again, nothing about this situation made sense to him. "You said you had pictures," he said finally, rubbing the back of his neck, trying to figure out answers that he didn't have.

"I have a family…a job. Gibbs Consulting. We're based out of Reston. Call the number, ask for L.J. You, not him. For some reason, I trust you more than the guy with the gun." He recited the number, stuffing his shaking hands into the pockets of his jeans. "Kelli is my admin assistant. She'll know my schedule."

Dialing the number, Abby put it on speakerphone when the dial tones changed and a voice said, "I'm sorry. That number has been disconnected or is no longer in service. Please check your number and try again."

Focusing on Tony instead of the furious stranger, she said, "Tony, I don't know what to believe. Do you have any better suggestions? He's not Gibbs; his mannerisms, behavior, even the way he talks is different. But he is Gibbs, fundamentally. And I don't think Gibbs has any brothers…"

She looked at the Gibbs who wasn't Gibbs who stood there vibrating with anger. Abby knew the mistake she'd made, knew how badly she screwed up. The guilt was already starting to eat a hole in her. But she still had to explain herself. "I was desperate. He was in so much pain. I just wanted him free of that. I didn't know. I didn't want someone to be ripped from his family. I was just trying to help someone I love more than anything. He's my friend. But I'm so sorry."

Fumbling with her phone, she couldn't seem to bring the pictures of Gibbs up. "I… I have pictures on my computer…in my lab."

"That is my office," he insisted, punching the numbers in himself. "Here, try my cell." He dialed that number, only to get a fax line. "My dad then." He wrote down the number, his hands shaking, then stepped away. "He spends half the time with me, half in our hometown. Or my ex. Lauren Overton" He wrote down that number as well. "I don't care about some stranger's fucking pain. This is my life here. Me. Jet. Mine!" He stalked to the window, looking out it, trying to breathe. "Call my dad. He'll know me." _He has to know me._

All Tony could do was shrug helplessly. Everything was spinning so far out of control. But Bossman had always told him to trust his instincts and his instincts said there was no way this was the Gibbs they knew.

"Are we talking like Freaky Friday or Big here, Abbs? Or something… more?"

"I think something more…God, Tony. What have I done?" Standing, she walked over to the younger Gibbs. She dialed Jackson's number, handing L.J. her cell phone.

"He has to know me," Jet whispered. He and his father were really close, really tight, especially after Jet had settled down in the DC area. They were all each other had in terms of immediate family.

When he heard his father's voice, he wanted to shout with relief. "Dad? Hey, it's Jet… L.J. God, you have no idea how much I needed to hear your voice!"

"L.J.? When did you start calling yourself that, Leroy?" The gravelly old voice crackled through the earpiece on the phone, loud enough for the rest of the people in the room to hear. "What's going on? Is everything all right? It's been awhile since you've called. Christmas, I think. Or maybe Easter. You still planning on coming up for my eightieth birthday? Don't know how many more I've got. I'd like to see my boy at one of them."

It was his father—but it wasn't. There was something different about his voice and his father was barely seventy. "Birthday…" His voice shook and he closed his eyes. "Yeah… I… miss you," he managed. "I miss you, Dad." He stepped back from the phone, shaking his head rapidly, blinking back emotion.

Tony jerked his head to the man—he couldn't think of him as Gibbs—and took the phone. "Hey, Jackson. He's fine. Just been a rough week, but you don't have to worry. Hey, am I invited to the party?"

"Of course you are, DiNozzo. The whole team is actually. What's wrong with Jethro? His voice sounds different, like he's got an accent or something. He travel somewhere?"

"We'll be there with bells on, Jack. And he's okay. Just a rare cold or something. Nothing to worry about. We'll talk soon, Jack!" Tony disconnected quickly and motioned to the guy. "Abbs…fix him."

"I don't know how, Tony. I don't even know what I did. I don't even know where to start!" Panic was starting to set in as the enormity of what she'd done started hitting Abby. She'd screwed everything up. Destroyed countless lives. The road to hell is paved with good intentions, she thought. How many times had her science teacher in high school told her that?!

"You have to. He trusts you most of us all," Tony told her. He hugged her close. "Gibbs would tell you that you started it, you can't run away. You have to fix it." Gibbs! It hit Tony suddenly that they might not see Bossman again. Ever. "He needs you, Abbs."

"I guess I can go back through, do a search through my computer, see where I went last night online. Everything's a blur, Tony. What if I can't? What if I can't bring Gibbs back and send this one back to where he needs to be?"

"You will," Tony insisted. "We'll all help. McGoogle, Ziva, me. Even Ducky. But we can't let it go any deeper. Not Vance, that'd be a nightmare. You're gonna have to destroy the footage of us standing off as it is, unless we can spin it somehow."

"Oh, God. You're right. I need to get started." Turning, she walked towards the new Gibbs, worried about his reaction to her. "I'm going to my lab. I'm going to figure this out. I'm going to get you home. One way or another, I'm going to get you home. If you want, you can come with me. Maybe your insight will help figure out exactly where you came from. And there's always the pictures…"

"I'll go talk to the others, fill them in, Abbs." Tony looked at the guy, nodding slightly. "We'll meet you in the lab. Figure out how to spin this as a team." He gave the other man an encouraging smile. "We're the best at what we do; we'll find a way out of this."

"Thanks." Jet mumbled, but he didn't really believe.


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Gibbs was naked under the spray when Kelli came in and while his body was interested, his mind suddenly rebelled. He opened the door, letting her have a quick glance, knowing that was all he'd allow from her for now. "Woman's touch," he echoed, nodding, her predatory look doing nothing for him. "Pick me out a great outfit, how is that for a start?" And an end…

"Just an outfit, L.J.? I'm sure there's a whole lot more I could do with my woman's touch than just pick out some clothes." Her mouth started watering at the glimpse of his naked body. The muscles, all his muscles, melted her, making her want to rip off that door and devour him. But there was something cold about his eyes that warned her against it.

"Just an outfit…for now." It had been a mistake to encourage her. He'd gotten his information much more easily than by selling his body or soul. "We'll see about more later." She wasn't his type at all and there was no way he could fake it right now. He'd let her look. But there wasn't going to be anything more than that. Not now, not ever.

"For now," she purred, leaving it as a promise for the future, hopefully the immediate future. Giving him one more backward glance, she whispered loud enough for him to hear. "Delicious."

Going into his enormous walk-in closet, Kelli picked out a few articles of clothing she knew he looked amazing in. Putting down the dark slacks with the matching sport coat and a bright button down shirt and tie, she set them on the bed. Sitting next to the clothes, she arranged herself in what she believed was an alluring pose and waited for him.

He let out a quiet groan at her perusal and showered quickly. Whoever belonged to this shower had much more expensive tastes than he did. He liked the dual showerhead and the slate walls of the huge shower, but the liquid soap and expensive shampoo did nothing for him. There wasn't a razor or shaving cream in the shower, so he figured he'd find an electric when he stepped out.

He washed quickly, stepping out, drying off, and staring at himself in the mirror. He looked fundamentally the same to his eyes, despite the change in location. Discovering the razor, he ran it over his face quickly then splashed on some expensive aftershave on. The deodorant was in the same scent and he winced slightly as he applied it. He was going to smell like a damned girl. An electric toothbrush and toothpaste were by the sink and he used those as well, his movements quick and efficient.

Walking into the bedroom nude, he discovered her on his bed, clothes laid out next to her. Where was underwear? He looked at the bureau and crossed the room, opening the top drawer. Socks, cufflinks, there… He slipped on a pair of dark boxer briefs and turned to her, mentally wincing at the hungry expression on her face.

"Took you long enough, stud." Putting on what she thought was a delectable pout, she whined, "That's too bad. And here I was hoping you'd go without the boxers today."

He blinked a few times, shaking his head. "Without underwear?" He expelled a huge breath. "Look, Kelli. This isn't…it's a bad idea right now. Not that I'm not interested, it's just…not a good time. But waiting, that'll make it so much better, won't it?"

He hated this stuff, was stumbling all over himself just like always in these instances. And if he ticked her off, his main source of intel was gone. "Later, babe. I promise you…later." He hated lying to her, but it was very necessary right now.

Getting up from the bed, she walked over to him. Stopping when she was close enough to feel his body heat, she trailed a fingernail up the middle of his chest. "I'm going to hold you to it, Boss." Turning on her heel, she headed out of the bedroom. "I'll be waiting downstairs. Get dressed quickly…unless you need some help…" She trailed off, hoping.

"I'm okay," he promised. His hands were shaking slightly as he dressed. He needed to talk to NCIS, had to figure out why this woman wasn't shocked that he was here and where here was exactly. And why there was a guy who looked like him and had his name.

There was a phone handset in the bedroom and Gibbs picked it up. No time like the present. He dialed Abby's number and got someone who didn't speak English, tried Tony and Ducky, only to get wrong numbers. He called half dozen people, as well as NCIS, and didn't get through to a one. It seemed that he was someplace else, in someone else's life, as impossible as that sounded.

Calling up the stairs, Kelli yelled, "Hey L.J. You doing okay? Need any help?"

He pulled in a couple of deep breaths. This was just a role, he could handle this; he could make it happen. "Yeah, I'm good. I'll be right down." He stared at himself in the mirror until his expression was normal and glanced at the clothes for the first time. They were expensive, felt a little funny against his skin, but he looked good. Damned good.

He pulled on a watch, slipped a cell phone in his pocket, and grabbed a wallet he hadn't seen before, flipping it open. Two American Express cards, a bunch of other credit cards and two IDs. He looked at the license first. A man who looked a lot like him, but about five years younger, stared out of the piece of plastic. Same height and weight, different years of birth. Another piece of paper showed a concealed weapons permit. The smallest key on the keychain must belong to a gun safe.

"If I'm here, I hope you're with my people. They'll treat you good," he told the picture.

He slipped the wallet into his pants and started searching for the gun safe, finding it in the bedside table. He unlocked it and pulled out a Sig very much like his service weapon. Clipping the holster to his belt, he closed the safe and walked out of the bedroom, heading downstairs where the woman waited.

She was his personal assistant, but she'd have to be considerably more today.

"What is the schedule today again?"

Wondering at the sudden change in mood, Kelli had the good sense not to push it with her boss. When he got into his moods… "Pretty light, actually. Other than the meeting at one, you set the day aside for catching up; records, contracts."

"So why did you come here?" he asked. Why would an assistant go to someone's house if they weren't involved, and he was sure they weren't involved. "Look, I'm hungry. Let's grab a bite and you can fill me in. My head hurts and everything is kinda fuzzy, so I'm gonna need your help today."

"You always need my help, L.J." Grabbing her purse, she winked at him. "Come on then. Let's go get you some food."

"Your car?" he asked, hoping she wouldn't find that too strange. From the license, he knew he was in Reston, but he didn't know that suburb like he knew his neighborhood in Alexandria.

"That's why I came to get you." She hoped he'd even let her drive him home at the end of the day, though he could always take his other car home. For reasons beyond her, L.J. kept another car, gassed and ready to go, at work.

"Okay," he said reasonably. He knew Reston only slightly and that was pretty much the toll road to Ducky's place. "But let's get moving. I'm starved." He hadn't eaten much last night, had only picked up coffee after leaving work, and his stomach was protesting.

"On it, Boss," she laughed, meaning much more than just food. Heading out the door, she didn't wait for him to follow, knowing he would. Sliding into her driver's seat, she waited for him.

"On it, Boss?" he repeated, smirking slightly. Apparently not everything had changed. He spied a soft leather briefcase and grabbed it, hoping it was the right thing. He slipped in beside her, looking around at the nice neighborhood that was a little more suburban and much more upscale than his own place.

"Where are we eating, Kelli?" he asked, trying to relax.

"What do you feel like, L.J.? There's always a few restaurants that have a table reserved for you in case you show up." Starting the car, she pulled out, heading toward the Reston Town Center.

He shrugged. He had no idea what was out here. "Ladies' choice, I'm up for anything today, just something pretty hearty." It was the best tactic he could take right now. He stared out the window, watching the people moving around, doing their errands. Something grabbed his attention, though, and his heart started racing double time.

He frantically rolled down the window. "Slow down!" Focusing his attention on a figure, he leaned halfway out the car. "Shannon???" If he was someplace else with a younger him, it reasoned that she could be here. Alive.

Pulling quickly to the side of the road, Kelli turned to him, confused. "L.J.? What are you doing?"

The woman with thick red hair hurried down the street, following a short list of instructions from her current employer. She had no idea why the strange woman from New Orleans always had her running errands at the same time every day. But the temp agency she worked with as a virtual assistant sometimes had her working for strange people who had strange demands of their assistants. So, every day for the last week at precisely 10 o'clock, Emily was in the Reston Town Center, following orders. As bizarre as this was, at least it was a job.

As soon as Kelli pulled to the side of the road, he was out of the car, but he couldn't see her in the crowd. A redhead turned then and he realized how silly and stupid he was being. It had to have been her instead of his wife. Going back to the car, he settled in the passenger seat, slamming the door.

"What the hell was that?" Kelli asked, a bit indignant since he seemed all hot and bothered about some girl on the street.

"Nothing," he snapped. "Thought I saw someone I cared about. You don't need to worry about it. She's gone. Was stupid." Gibbs spoke in bursts of sound, clipping his words. "She's gone, Kelli, and it doesn't matter, okay?"

"Okay, fine. You still hungry?" she asked, not really caring as to the answer. Heading to a restaurant that served good wine, Kelli found it quickly and pulled into a parking spot.

He nodded, not daring to say anything. The idea that this could be Shannon niggled, even though he knew better. She was gone, she couldn't be alive in this world, or could she?

"Do a computer web search for me, will ya? Shannon Melissa Bartlett, born in Philadelphia on May 29, 1962. I need to know everything."

"Do you wanna eat or do you want the search? I guess I could order it to go if you really got a hard-on for the results…" Kelli didn't like it all. First, he was all hot and dangerous, turning that lethal charm on her. Then, he saw one redhead and bam! It was all business.

He looked in the back seat. "You have a laptop. We can do both. Get lunch ordered and then the search started. That okay with you?" She had an edge in her voice that annoyed him. He needed information on his wife, and she meant so much more than some bimbo with long nails and a predatory attitude.

"Right," she bit out, realizing her pleasure lunch with L.J. had just turned into a business lunch with her boss.


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

With the man following her practically growling, Abby made her way to the elevator, unsure of what to say. She wanted to figure out what had gone wrong, to fix what she had messed up. But this was still Gibbs, still the man she leaned on for strength; the form and essence of the man still calling out to her. Almost out of habit, definitely out of necessity, Abby wanted to turn to him and feel his arms around her, feel him pull her into a hug, to let her know that everything would be all right, that he had the confidence that she would figure out how to fix it. Gibbs had always believed she could figure out anything.

The elevator doors slid open and Abby moved into the steel-walled car, pressing the button for her floor. Shuffling her feet, she kept her eyes trained on the seam of the closed doors, her insecurities overshadowing her voice and natural warm and friendly nature.

"What did I do to piss you off?" Jet asked, watching her body language and growing more concerned. He'd clearly stepped onto some landmine he didn't know existed. "Are you with the other guy?" he asked and that really bothered him if she was.

"With him? Gibbs? No, I wasn't his type. But he was special to me." Looking over in her surprise, she wondered how much of the vulnerability she normally had around Gibbs she could share. Abby knew while around L.J., she would have to constantly remind herself that this wasn't the same man.

"You didn't piss me off. I just figured you were angry with me. Especially if my conclusions are right, and I am the one who pulled you from your world. I wanted to apologize." She was rambling and there was nothing she could do to stop it. "I wanted to tell you that I was sorry, but I didn't know if you would accept it or if it would just upset you more…" He was looking at her strangely, in a way she couldn't guess, in a way Gibbs never – okay rarely – ever did.

"Yeah, I'm furious at you," he admitted. "I don't belong here." But it wasn't as if he really belonged home anyway. Yeah, he had a good relationship with his father and he and Jessica genuinely liked each other, but his company pretty much ran itself and he didn't have many friends any more. They'd all drifted away when he was working crazy hours building his company. Maybe he didn't belong anywhere after all, and that wasn't a good feeling at all.

Furious. God, it hurt so much to hear him say that, with a voice that sounded so much like her Gibbs, who only last night told her he loved her. Hearing the condemnation in his voice made it feel like her heart was being ripped in two. But Abby knew she deserved his anger and so much worse. Who knew what Gibbs was going through right now? And what about the man with her…what life and family did she tear him away from?

Furious. He deserved to say a lot more horrible things to her than just that.

When the elevator came to a stop, Abby said, "I'll find away to get you home. And when you're ready for my apology, you just have to say so. No strings." When the doors opened, she walked through, turning down the hall to head into her lab. She went right to her computer and pulled up her favorite picture of Gibbs, waiting for this younger Gibbs to see.

"Sorry doesn't get me back home," he retorted shortly. He stared at the picture on the computer screen. The guy's hair was almost all silver, face more lined, maybe five years older than him. He stared in silence for a few minutes and then sighed. "Looks like he could be my brother. Older brother."

Though she tried to hide it, Abby flinched visibly with his comment. A few more taps on her keyboard and she had a slideshow created. Pictures showing the Gibbs she knew: a photo she had taken with him working on his boat, one from her phone of him slapping Tony on the head, a picture Tony had taken, with Gibbs giving her a kiss on the cheek when she'd done a good job, working with the team in the squad room, patting Ducky on the shoulder. She had so many pictures of him. But the pictures just made the ache in her heart throb worse. Would she see ever him again?

"Your twin," she offered.

"My what? No…he's older than I am. He looks it anyway. Same eyes, though." There were differences he could see that went beyond the hair and lines in the other man's face, there was a deep wariness and sense of loss there.

"Same name and family." Leaving him to the picture show, Abby started calling up her browser history, piecing together what had happened the night before.

"Different father. His doesn't know me. Different wife, kids." He missed his father and Jess a hell of a lot all of a sudden.

"If you… if you want to do a net search to find out what other differences there are, I have another computer if you want to use it." True, Abby had told McGee that letting someone else handle her personal computer was worse than having a root canal but she didn't know what else to do for him. Besides Gibbs from another world or no, Abby was having a hard time not trusting him implicitly as she did with the other.

"No, you…look up whatever. I don't want to…" Know. He didn't want to know that he'd ceased to exist, here, there and everywhere.

Suddenly defeated, he just stared at the floor.

"Jackson may not know you, but you're still his son. He still loves you, no matter where you are." Abby knew she was making things worse and all she wanted to do was hug him. Despite her fear of being rejected by him, she couldn't fight the urge to comfort him anymore. Putting her hands on his shoulders, she pulled him in for a hug, not caring if he pushed her away. The hug lacked her normal exuberance, the normal passion she put behind that connection, but she knew better than to push too hard. "I'll get you home to him."

He shook his head, setting his jaw against the flare of pain. He needed his home, his family. When she hugged him, he stiffened. He was furious at her, he couldn't just relax into her hug as if she hadn't shattered his life and screwed up everything. But he found his body relaxing in spite of his best intentions, moving closer.

His reaction surprised her. Truthfully, she wouldn't have been surprised if she found her butt on the floor in a knee-jerk reaction as he tried to get away from her contact. But when L.J. relaxed and pulled her closer, Abby felt a new sensation run through her body, a tingle that had never occurred when her Gibbs hugged her. Pulling her head back, her arms still wrapped around his upper body, Abby looked at him, her eyes wide in her confusion and vulnerability, in her almost desperate need to comfort and fix what she had done.

He looked into her eyes only a moment, shaking his head but not pushing away, not yet. In fact, his body pressed in tighter, drawn to her warmth and emotion. He coughed once, slightly awkward as he backed away and stared at the floor, trying to figure out why he was drawn to her.

His movement away from her deflated her normally bubbly personality even more. _Why does it matter? _He wasn't Gibbs, but he was. And her body was getting her signals all confused. This man hated her, hated her because she'd torn him from his home, his family, his life.

Biting her lip again, she turned back to her computer and started typing, adding criteria to her searches. "I…do you want anything? Coffee? Caf-Pow!? Do you even have Caf-Pow! in your world?" she asked, almost to herself. "There's another chair you can pull up here."

"Got something stronger?" he asked, his voice the slightest bit brittle. He walked to the window, looking out at the little glimpse of ground. There had been just be a moment there where he was sure she wanted him, his body tingling slightly, senses on alert.

He shook his head, realizing that was a stupid notion. She was as freaked as he was about this whole damned mess. She'd been the one to create it.

"Can you fix it?" he asked, his voice roughened by his emotion.

Abby heard her breath catch in her throat at the jagged sound of his voice. Though the voice was slightly different, not as gruff or weathered, the sounds were the same as the Gibbs she knew. Only this new edge was sending tremors and tingles through her body.

"Yes. I don't know how yet, but I can. I'm hoping to just have to recreate what I did last night. And of course, I need to research some more. Don't want to send you somewhere you really don't want to be. But I'm not going to stop until I find a way."

She turned her attention back to her monitor, her fingers quick across the keys, the clicking the only sounds in her lab. She could feel her concentration starting to ebb, turning towards the man looking out the window. Abby couldn't help as her ears tuned into his movements, his breaths.

"What if you send me someplace else? How do I know you know what the hell you're doing? Why were you messing with this guy anyway?" He paused a second. "Tell me why."

This attraction between them was something that pissed him off. He wasn't looking for it, didn't want or need yet another complication by a meddling tattooed witch. "Fix it."

She'd hoped that their brief moment of connection would have given them an impasse. But apparently not, as he seemed to be going after her with renewed fervor. Hearing the badgering coming from Gibbs' voice was wearing her down, and soon, if he didn't stop, she'd probably break out in tears or crumple into a heap on the floor from the guilt.

"I don't know, okay. I just don't know. I don't know what I did. I don't even know how I did it. And I'm trying to fix it. But I was trying to fix something else last night, and look what happened?" She gestured out with her hands, her frustration with herself seeping out.

Suddenly the stress and the guilt became just a little too much of a burden for her to shoulder on her own. "You don't need to know why. What do you care?" she bit out. "He was hurting. And he's family. And I was desperate for him to have some happiness in his life. And you don't know what it was like to see you…him walking around here like a ghost. And…you don't care, so why do you need to know?"

"It's my life. You're damn right I need to know what the hell I walked into. Federal agency, probably everything on fucking videotape. My freedom could be on the line so suck it up and fix this. I don't want to spend the next twenty in a cell somewhere because your friend was hurting!"

He was so furious at her; he wanted to tear strips off her skin verbally, even though he knew it wasn't the right thing to do. "Fix it."

Jumping off her chair, she walked up to him, poking him in the chest. "What do you think I'm doing? What else do you want me to do? What do you want me to say? There's nothing I can say, nothing I can do to make this all right, other than what I'm trying to do right now. And there's more than just you at stake. My friend is out there somewhere. Just as lost and alone as you are. Maybe even more so. How do I know that there are people on the other side willing to help him? But I can fix this. I have to."

Turning from him, she stepped away before bowing her head, her shoulders slumping from the guilt. "Don't you think I'm beating myself up enough without you assaulting me? I can't do my job. I can't figure this out if you're going to keep going after me like this."

"Don't you think the fact that I'm in another world means more than your feelings? You feel bad. Great, you should. You obviously played with something you had no business screwing with and now I'm stuck here, could be forever. So excuse me if I don't really care that you feel bad when you yanked my world out from under me."

He was furious and even though her emotions stabbed at him, he wasn't ready to let up on her. Not yet. Maybe when he calmed down he would. "Witch wannabe," he growled, staring out at the street, still seeing red.

Abby wanted to say more, to argue, but she knew it wouldn't do any good. This man, who'd trusted her before, hated her now. His name-calling hurt far worse than his anger. She'd been called names her whole life. And now the one man who had seen beyond her tattoos and clothes, who had seen the real her, was gone. In his place stood someone so similar it hurt, but far enough away to be a pale shadow of the original. _Asshole_, she signed as she moved away, back to her computer.

_Oh, who am I kidding? He's not a shadow, more like the same painting done in different colors. _Turning on her music, she blared it as loudly as she could stand, hoping to drown out the accusations that bled off of the man.

He stalked over to the music and turned it off, wondering if she was provoking him. He didn't know what the gesture she'd given him meant, but he could assume it was rude. And her nerve pissed him off right now. He was jumpy, nervous, almost borderline panicked, and that wasn't the way he was normally. The whole situation was foreign to him and it confused and concerned him.

She had to expect that he'd strike out, he reasoned. He wasn't who they all wanted here. This man—the other him—could even be her lover. They'd had a moment together and maybe the chemistry was similar. The more he thought about it, the more sense it made.

"Just fix it," he said in the sudden silence, knowing he sounded plaintive and alone. "You can have him back then. Your boyfriend."

When he shut the music off, the echo of the Gibbs she knew was so strong that Abby couldn't stop a few tears from escaping down her cheeks. Sniffing, she murmured, "He's not my boyfriend. He's just my friend. Someone who cared about me, who protected me when people tried to kill me and who's now lost with less of an idea of what is going on than you do."

_What if I can't get him back? What if I screwed everything up so much that he's stuck there and you're stuck here?_ Abby tried to shake off those thoughts, but with her guest's constant badgering, her confidence was wearing thin.

"You make it sound like where I live is hell. It's not. I have some great friends. People who will help… him." He sighed and shook his head, digging his hands through his hair. "Sure you don't have anything to drink? With a bite? What if I can't go home?" _What if there isn't a home for me to go back to? _he added silently.

"No, I don't mean it like that. I just… I don't know what your home is like. And Gibbs is completely capable, a Marine sniper. He can handle himself." When he asked about something to drink, Abby grimaced. "Well, I have something… it was going to be a present for Gibbs. But since he's gone and technically you're him…"

Going into the back room, she came out with a box wrapped in gold paper. Handing it to him, she waited for him to open it. "I'll get you home, L.J."

"Don't want his stuff. Not right." He handed it back to her, drifting toward the window again and staring out. "Don't know what you've got till it's gone. Stepkid is a teenager. Her mom remarried. But maybe I'll never get to tell her I'm proud." That pissed him off more than anything else.

Putting the gift down onto the evidence table in case he changed his mind later, she walked over to him. Opting for a less forward approach, she put her hand on his shoulder, squeezing. "You'll see her again. I'll find a way."

"And if you can't?" he asked quietly. "I'm not your friend. Retinal scans and hand prints and all that won't work on me. My company doesn't exist here. All of a sudden I'm here with no safety net, not even my wallet. No home, friends…"

"If I can't…" Abby hesitated, having a difficult time thinking that she'd fail in this. "If I can't, we'll figure something out, if you want my help. I know I screwed this all up. But you're not alone. For what it's worth, you have me. I've already screwed your life up enough as it is. I won't abandon you. We'll figure something out."

He nodded, not trusting himself to say any more right now.

~*~

Tony left the conference room and walked past the cluster of people in the squad room, jerking his head toward the elevator, hoping and somehow knowing the team would follow. As soon as they were all inside, he pressed the down button and then flicked the emergency stop switch, not sure how to begin, it was all so crazy.

They all followed Tony pretty quickly into the elevator, though none of them wanted to break the stunned silence. Ziva stared straight ahead, the questions bubbling up inside. Finally, Ziva couldn't take it any more.

"Can someone please explain to me what just happened? And why a Gibbs, younger than our boss, just pulled a gun on me?"

"He isn't the Gibbs we know," Tony began, still struggling for words. It didn't help that McGee and even Ducky were so quiet. "Abby did some sort of…ritual. And this guy thinks he's Gibbs, he looks like Gibbs, but he calls himself L.J. and doesn't work here." Tony didn't know how to explain it otherwise.

"My word," Ducky broke in. "Are you saying Abby had something to do with this, that she somehow…switched our Gibbs with another? Why, I've heard the stories, but I always believed they were idle fancy and not actual reality. My dear boy…" He trailed off, looking to Timothy. The young man read so much science fiction and fantasy, he surely would know the concept.

"I have…no clue, Ducky," McGee replied to his unasked question. "What did he say, Tony? When you were alone with him and Abby? Did he sound crazy? Or do you think he really has the life he's describing?" Sure, Tim read a lot, but the theory of inter-dimensional travel was way out of his league.

"He sounded angry but perfectly reasonable. Upset, but his eyes were sharp. No evidence of drugs. And he looks like Gibbs but not identical. Younger, hair styled differently, face less lined. Not all of that can be changed overnight. You all saw it. Unless Gibbs dyed his hair and had a little work done last night by one hell of a plastic surgeon. I didn't go over there…but I drove by and he was moving around in the basement about twenty-three hundred." Tony shrugged.

"Look, he's down in Abby's lab. We can quiz him without freaking him out and there are enough of us to observe real strongly. I know it doesn't make sense but whatever this is, we have to keep it away from Vance. Are ya with me?"

"No, that was not Gibbs. His eyes… they were different. Yes, Tony. We are all with you." When Tim didn't answer right away, Ziva elbowed him lightly in the ribs to get his attention.

"Yes, with you, Tony." Tim let out an "ooof" when Ziva's elbow came in contact with his ribs. She didn't hurt him, just surprised him.

"And me as well, of course. We'll do whatever we must to get to the bottom of this and discover where our Jethro is." Ducky wanted to say more but he only sighed, nodding.

"Okay, don't be combative but don't be afraid to ask questions either," Tony said. "He's angry, but I don't think anything will happen, not like what happened before. Speaking of which, McGee, need you to help Abby erase the tapes unless we can spin it."

Tim considered Tony's request and figured he could pull it off. "Yeah, that shouldn't be a problem. But what about all those people in the squad room who saw our display? Won't they be asking questions about why Gibbs was attacking Ziva and pulling a gun on us? I think it'd be less suspicious if the tapes are left as they are, no alterations."

Tony sighed, nodding, "Yeah, we should spin it. Get our story right now. How is this? We were doing reactive drills. Expect the unexpected. So secret that Gibbs didn't even discuss with Vance. We have to find a way to deal with Vance, too. Don't want to go back afloat," Tony muttered.

The thought of Vance finding out was not something Ziva wanted to entertain either. "But how will we keep Vance from running into this new Gibbs? What do we do to ensure that this is not found out?"

"We train this guy the best we can. We give him a crash course in becoming our Gibbs." It was the only way that made sense and Tony knew it. "What, you guys have a better idea?" Tony snapped as Ducky stared at him.

"No, Tony, It does however presume that he wants to help. What does he have to gain from cooperation?"

"He's Gibbs," Tony retorted, though he knew that didn't exactly tip the scales in their favor.

"Ah, so you think some of Jethro's spirit remains, even though his body is…well, for lack of a better term, some place else?"

"Don't know," Tony admitted. The whole stuation was more bizarre than the craziest movies and he had to figure out a way to deal, to lead this team.

"He really does not have much of a choice," Ziva explained, bluntly. "Either he helps us cover his arrival and aids us in the search for answers to get him home, or he will be stuck here forever. This is the best possible solution for all parties involved." Though Tony's plan wasn't infallible, he was correct as to its validity. Besides, for all intents and purposes, he was the team leader now. She would stand behind him and support him, though not blindly. It would not be her way, nor would Tony expect that of her.

"I guess…" Tim grumbled, not completely convinced.

"She's right," Tony said firmly. The only way this could work is if they interacted with him as Gibbs. "You guys ready for this?"

After making sure that Tim nodded in agreement, Ziva added, "Will you be taking the lead on this, Tony? To convince this Gibbs to go along with our plan?"

"I'm team leader with Gibbs gone, Ziva," Tony replied. "Yes." It was his position and what he'd do.

"I know, Tony. But are you willing to take Gibbs on? He may be a different person than the one we know, but he is still Gibbs. And I imagine he will be the same as the other, with his own plans and his own ways of doing things. Even, in fact, his beliefs on how others should do them. I will stand behind you, stand firm with you. We all will." She looked around for confirmation, getting nods in the affirmative.

"He isn't Gibbs, Ziva. He's someone else, nothing to us. And he'll listen, he has to. We're the best allies he has here." Tony appreciated Ziva's words and nodded. They had to pull this off. It was the only chance they had of discovering what happened to their Gibbs.


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Gibbs ordered a double bourbon as soon as they sat down, staring out into space and motioning to Kelli's laptop. "I need you to find some people. It's important," he said, wishing he was better at all the computer stuff. He could do it, but he didn't know the tricks of getting into the databases that McGee did.

"Yeah, yeah," Kelli grumbled, suppressing the need to simultaneously roll her eyes at his insistence and raise her eyebrows at his ordering a drink so early in the morning. Doing a general search, she began talking, letting him know what she found.

"Shannon Melissa Bartlett, born in Philadelphia, on May 29, 1962. Married a Patrick Mulligan in July 1981. Died of leukemia November 3, 1985. No children." Looking up at him, a little afraid of his response, she asked, "Is there anything else you need me to run a search for?"

Gibbs swallowed his entire drink in one painful gulp, forcing the liquid down a throat that was closing with emotion. He scrubbed a hand over his face. "Dead? She's dead?" She'd been in this world and she was dead now? Just like home. "Jackson and Elizabeth Gibbs, Stillwater, Pennsylvania. Born early nineteen thirties. Look them up next." He paused a second then nodded, scribbling names on a napkin. "Abigail Sciuto, Donald Mallard, Caitlin Todd, Timothy McGee, Jennifer Shepard, Anthony DiNozzo, Ziva David, James Palmer, Brent Langer… Chris Pacci. Mike Franks. Need years of birth or locations on any of them."

He had to know what was going on with his family, friends, and coworkers. If they were all okay.

"What is this, a hit list?" Kelli joked, trying to cover her confusion. "What do you need this information for anyhow, Boss? Shouldn't you be getting ready for the meeting? You don't want to show up drunk."

Gibbs squinted at the glass, wishing he had another. "Why do you care? I need it, okay. I just…need it." He shook his head rapidly, trying to come to terms with the unrealistic hope that Shannon was alive, dealing with the crushing reality that she was gone here as well. "Shan…" he said quietly, aware that he didn't even have their pictures in his wallet. He had nothing tying him to his girls. Everything was…where he wasn't now. And that pissed him off.

"Dammit, someone has to fix this," he growled.

"Someone has to fix what, Boss?" Kelli was really starting to get freaked out. Not only did he not look like he normally did, but now her boss was starting to act crazy. She wondered if she'd have to set up a vacation for him. Somewhere warm and peaceful. It had worked before. Maybe it could again.

"Can't explain," he bit off. "I just need to know where those people are, what they're doing, where they live, whether they're married or single. And I need to know about Kelly Gibbs, born August 16, 1983 in Quantico, VA. I need this information. Soon. Then you can tell me about this damned meeting."

"All right, all right. I have records on a Jackson Gibbs, Stillwater, PA. Guess he owns some sort of country store. Wife, Elizabeth deceased," she said quickly, typing out a few names he gave her. "There's no record of a Ziva David, Donald Mallard or James Palmer. There's mention of an Anthony DiNozzo. Worked for Philadelphia PD, but died from anthrax poisoning. A Timothy McGee works in a think tank for the government, no information beyond that. One Jennifer Shepard is in prison for treasonous activities. Someone by the name of Abby Sciuto works in New Orleans." Scoffing at the information she found out about, she laughed. "Apparently, she's a television psychic and has a shop selling voodoo ritual items. According to this website, she's also a witch for hire. And I can't find mention of the rest of the names you've given me."

Tony was _dead_? Knowing Shannon was gone, he'd expected the same fate for Kate, but _Tony_?? That one hurt. A lot. Tony had tried so hard to get Gibbs out of his shell that even though Tony didn't know it, Gibbs thought of Tony like a younger brother, sometimes even the son he'd never had. "Anthony DiNozzo, dead," he repeated, sucking in a deep breath and nodding, trying to come to terms with it.

And Jenny was in prison? Treason? Were McGee and Abbs the only one who had made it out of this okay? He stared down at his plate, knowing he needed to get home—soon. Yeah, they drove him crazy, but they were his team. His family. And he would never have admitted it to anyone, but he needed them.

He brushed a hand over his face, staring at the plates that were being delivered. "I know this doesn't make sense. Bear with me. I need to know about Kelly Gibbs, Kelly Gibbs, born August 16, 1983 in Quantico, VA." He didn't want to beg, but the most important name was the one she hadn't checked yet.

"Like I said, there's no mention of any of those other names you gave me, including Kelly Gibbs, born in Quantico or otherwise. Boss, you haven't made any sense since I came by your place this morning. Need anything else looked up right now? Or can we eat?" Kelli knew her tone was sarcastic and snarky, but she just couldn't seem to help herself.

"Eat, what's a few thousand calories on hips like that anyway," he shot back just as sarcastically. With three ex-wives, he knew how to throw a few verbal barbs of his own. It wasn't wise to alienate her, but he couldn't muster up the urge to care. Tony was dead. And Shannon…Kelly…they were gone. Jenny was in prison. He had to find Abbs. Maybe she hadn't changed too much.

Slamming her laptop closed, Kelli stood up, throwing it into her bag. "I think I'm not hungry. Think I'll go get the documents ready for the meeting. Find another ride. Just don't be late. Enjoy your lunch." Pushing the chair out from underneath her, Kelli stormed out of the restaurant.

He swore quietly, shaking his head. He had no idea about the meeting, what it was about, where it was. Hell, at least he had the other guy's license so he knew how and where to go. He got both meals to go and asked them to call him a cab. As soon as he was home—or what house counted for home, even though it was foreign to him—he booted up the computer. He had to find McGee and Abbs. They'd help him, they had to.


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Tony glanced around at the team, took a breath and nodded, walking into Abby's lab. "Abbs?" he asked, motioning to Ducky to do the introductions, the new Gibbs looking so alike and yet so different to their Gibbs that it still startled him.

"Ah yes, yes." Ducky walked over to the other man. "I'm Doctor Mallard. They call me Ducky. I'm the medical examiner here at NCIS. And with me are our Mossad Liaison Ziva David and Special Agent Timothy McGee." He waited for the others to speak, giving them an encouraging look.

"Hey, Tony!" Abby rushed forward to give Tony a hug, needing his stable strength to pull her back from the confusing interlude she'd had with the new Gibbs.

"You okay?" Tony whispered into her hair, holding her tight.

She couldn't answer him, not in front of everyone, so she just shook her head. "I screwed up, Tony. God, I screwed up so bad. What if I can't bring Gibbs home?"

"Don't know," Tony said honestly. "But we'll figure it out, Abbs. The team is all together on this."

Deciding to make the first step, Tim walked forward and held out his hand. "You can call me Tim," he began. "Sorry about pulling a gun on you earlier. Wasn't personal…"

Though Tim went forward to introduce himself, Ziva hung back, knowing her presence might not be welcomed by the newcomer. Instead, she waited to support Tony if he needed it.

Jet paused a moment before accepting both men's hands. "L.J., or Jet, call me Jet." He focused on the woman next. "Hell of a fighter. Should have pegged you for Mossad."

Looking into the eyes that were the twins of her boss and friend, Ziva could make out the differences. "Yes, you should have. But you fought well enough," she acknowledged as best she could, under the circumstances. Deciding it was safe now, she held out her hand for him to take.

He shrugged, he could have done better and he knew it. Eyeing her and then her hand, he shook it slowly before pulling her close in an unexpected move that plastered her against his body, her back arched, eyes wide in what he supposed was shock. His other arm went low and tight around her and he squeezed her against his body, kicking her legs wide. "You won't always best me, though. Think we're evenly matched."

"You can think that if you like," Ziva replied cryptically, tapping his side with the flat blade of her knife, showing the kill shot through his ribs. "But until you get the full measure of the person you are up against, I would hesitate on making assumptions." In their position, Ziva could feel what was pressed between them. Raising her eyebrow at him, she asked, "Or do you have other things on your mind?"

When the man pulled Ziva against his body, Tim had his hand on his gun, not knowing if he needed to pull it out again. "Ziva?" he asked, hesitantly.

"It is all right, McGee. He is merely testing himself against me. Is that not correct, L.J.?"

He was impressed with her cool under pressure. "Jet," he emphasized. "Not making any assumptions that aren't true. You're Mossad, you have the look of a very highly trained operative. I trained a few of your people a couple of years ago. Effective techniques for combat when they were secured by both arms and legs. Don't underestimate me either."

He realized that he'd gotten hard then, the adrenaline channeling itself below. Pushing his hips away from hers, he moved away quickly, took her knife, and then handed it back to her, hilt first, with a cocky smile on his face.

"Testing, yeah." He looked at the younger man and then at the older one who was standing in a ready position. Only the shortest and eldest one was completely relaxed, studying him with shrewd eyes.

Sliding her knife back into its holster, she stepped away from him, closer to her team. Finally able to take a closer look at Abby, Ziva grew concerned at the defeated look on her face. What had happened while she had been alone with L.J.? If he had hurt her… Ziva looked over at him, trying to gauge what had happened.

He noticed her expression hardening and he arched a brow, a stab of unease ripping through him. He didn't say anything, knowing if they were going to try and convict him en masse that he couldn't do a damned thing to convince them otherwise.

"Talk to us," Tony said to Abby quietly.

Slowly and with great embarrassment for meddling in Gibbs' life, she tried to plead with them to understand. "I didn't mean to cause such a…crisis. I was just trying to help Gibbs. Tony, you saw. You saw how defeated he was, how closed off from all of us he was becoming. He blamed himself for the dissolution of the team. He was determined to push us all away to stop that from ever happening again. I went to his house last night. Wanted to talk with him, see if I couldn't help somehow. Should have known it wouldn't work. He's never been able to let anyone in. So, I left. And I came back with this…"

Pulling out the flask from her pocket, she showed it to the rest of them. "I did some research. I don't really know what I was looking for, just some way that I could find to give Gibbs some happiness or at least some peace. I found a few hinky sites, obvious frauds looking to make money off of people's pain." Her eyes narrowed at that thought. Abby hated people who took advantage of those in need, whether it was poverty or something else.

"After that, it gets a bit hazy. I found a forum talking about Marines and the loss they feel after war, after losing spouses. I think I clicked a link. That's where the hazy part really gets thick. I don't really remember much after that. Just waking up on the floor, clutching the flask in my hands."

Tony took the flask, stroking a hand over it, the indented area and the engraved names on it, the memory of what their boss had lost. "You took this from him? What if he missed it?" Tony asked her gently, letting her know he wasn't impressed by that.

"Abby?" Tim gasped. "What did you do? You stole from Gibbs? And then did, what, a spell on him and sent him to who knows where?"

Tony took in a deep breath, trying to summon leadership. "Can you retrace your steps? Abbs…you have to. Probie…help her."

"I believe I may be of some help," Ducky put in quietly. "I've heard tales of some arcane rituals when I spent time in Africa. There were also tales of universes quite like ours but with some fundamental differences. Perhaps we could enter some research together, my dear girl."

Ducky? Of all the people, Ducky seemed to be open to this? It seemed strange but at the same time, it felt right that Ducky, with his knowledge and vast experiences, would be the one person to accept something different. "And we need to coordinate with Gibbs," Tony said, motioning to Ziva. It might help this Gibbs to feel less ganged up on if they were in smaller groups.

"I have a suggestion…Gibbs and his team will probably need to get back to work. Vance is going to be suspicious enough with your little guns blazing dance upstairs. We don't want to add to it. And don't worry, I'm not going to do anything any more. I'm under strict supervision. Unless Gibbs gives the say so, I'm not going to do anything."

Ducky nodded at the logic. He gave Tony a look and then nodded. "I haven't any new visitors, so I can be called upon for any help at all."

Tony nodded. What Abby said made sense. "Let's do some practice sparring up there, to deflect attention there. Probie, Ziva…you ready?" Tony looked at Abby for a long moment, wishing he could hug her.

"Call me if you need anything, Abbs. Okay?" He watched her for another long moment, wishing he could help her. Moving closer, he held her tight. "Don't be so hard on yourself. Bad idea, but an honest mistake. We'll get him back."

Abby hugged him back fiercely. "I'm so sorry, Tony. I'll bring our Gibbs back. I promise." She'd been making that promise a lot today. Abby just hoped she wouldn't let everyone down… again.

"I know. Abbs. I know. If he gives you any trouble, you call me." His hand rubbed over her back. "I know you'll get Bossman back. It'll happen…" But Tony didn't know that they'd have any answers or work through this easily. And in the meantime, Gibbs was out there somewhere. Tony knew they needed information, but he'd email Abbs some questions. They were all at their stress limit.

"I will, Tony. I will." And she would, on all counts. She would figure this out. "Just make sure that Vance doesn't get suspicious. I don't know if we'd survive that interrogation."

"I'll figure it out," Tony assured, hugging her one last time. He would, there was no better option, no other choice.


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

It took Gibbs over an hour to figure out how to get the more sophisticated searches on the computer started. Thank God his doppelganger didn't have his computer password protected. Gibbs imagined McGee would have had a lot to say about that and the thought of the team made him even sadder and more determined to get back where he was supposed to be. He wasn't a huggy or a touchy feely guy, but even he knew he had to do more to let them know how good they were as a team.

He wandered into the kitchen, figuring out the coffee pot by flicking the buttons until the thing got hot. At least the other him drank good coffee. That was something.

Gibbs went back to the computer and stared at a pad of paper. He'd only found the two people so far. Abby, and McGee. As Kelli had said, Abby was in New Orleans and had a website, but there were no pictures on it and it didn't look like it was updated often.

Taking a deep breath, Gibbs sank into the executive chair at the computer, coffee in hand, and dialed the number, hoping this Abby had some similarity to his Abbs.

"This is Abigail Sciuto. How may I direct your life path today?" The dark voice wove a sultry spell over the phone line, used to getting people to do what it wanted.

Abigail? She sounded the same and yet different. There was an earthy huskiness in her tone that he hadn't heard in years—since Kate was alive. But there was that magical mumbo jumbo too, the stuff Abbs had always been drawn to.

"Need some help. Not sure you're gonna believe me though," Gibbs began. He had no idea how to describe or explain this.

"Ah, Jethro. I was wondering when you were going to finally manage to call me. I've been waiting several hours for you to find my number." The enigmatic voice mocked his concern.

She'd never called him Jethro and hearing his name from her mouth took him aback. She called him Jethro though, rather than L.J. or Jet or even Gibbs, and that had to mean something significant. "Oh?" he asked, a little edge in his voice and a healthy dose of suspicion. This wasn't _his _Abbs and he had to remember that.

Knowing what he really wanted to know, Abigail danced around the subject. "Haven't you seen my website, Jethro? I am a psychic after all. What kind of professional would I be if I didn't have prior knowledge of your arrival? How is your new home? Cozy? Have you enjoyed your new…assistant?"

He wasn't interested in playing games. "Start talking, Abigail," he growled. How had she figured him out? Caller ID? "What makes you think that is my name?" he asked, pushing her a little bit.

"Ah, ever forceful, Jethro. Is this how you get your answers back home? Does your Abby respond to such gruff treatment?"

"My Abby?" he asked. She was giving him very clear clues that she knew exactly what was going on. "What do you know and did you create this? Start talking to me, Abigail."

"Ah, your aggressive and dominating attitude does not have much effect on me, Special Agent Gibbs, though I find it strangely… invigorating to hear. I know much more than you could possibly imagine." Her throaty laugh echoed hollowly through the phone line.

"Then stop playing games and tell me," he thundered. His patience was frayed, his temper rising. She clearly knew so much and wasn't sharing a damned thing with him. "Where are my people?"

"I'm not playing, Jethro. After all, there is a bit of the mysterious to what I do, and I must strive to retain that mystery. But do not worry, your people, as you call them, are where you left them, just with a new addition. As for beyond that, I don't feel the need to tell you over the phone. I am afraid you will have to come and see me."

"You want me to go to New Orleans and somehow find you? I have a job here, I have a life here, don't I? Is the one who lives in the house with my people? How is he adjusting? Does he know, did he plan this? Give me some intel," he said, his voice softening. He was talking more than he usually did in a bid to get more information.

"I am not so difficult to find, Jethro. My address is on my website. Your other has a life here. But since he's currently enjoying the fruits of your home, you are free to enjoy the fruits of his. As for whether he knows or not, I am sure he does now. Come to see me, Jethro. The matter will be worth your while and, I can tell you, incredibly urgent. If you don't come…" She let the threat hang over to be interpreted however he wished.

"Can you communicate with them?" he asked, pulling his double's wallet out and going to a travel computer website. This easy computer stuff he could deal with. "There is a flight out of Dulles in a couple of hours. Could be there before three. You busy the rest of the day?"

Smiling in anticipation, she answered, "Oh, I'm sure I can free up the day for you, Special Agent Gibbs."

"I'll be there, then," he said. He had one more thing to do before he could board a plane, so he disconnected and started a search for McGee. Finding the number for his office, Gibbs dialed and asked for McGee, waiting and hoping that something of the man he'd trained remained.

Frustrated at being interrupted in the middle of a difficult calculation, McGee answered brusquely, "This is McGee. Who is this?"

"Timothy McGee?" Gibbs asked, even though he recognized the voice. "My name is Gibbs," he began, not sure if this McGee knew the other him or even the name. The relief he felt at hearing McGee's voice was tempered. Knowing how different Abby was had him pausing and holding his breath.

"Yes, this is Timothy McGee. And I repeat, who is this?" Tim's voice became more irritated, more demanding as the seconds ticked by. Precious seconds that could mean the difference in a breakthrough or a failure.

"My name is Gibbs. Jethro Gibbs. I need to speak with you, to see you. It's about a project. I can pay you very well for your time and a free trip, first class, would be in the cards as well."

McGee was the most brilliant scientific mind he knew, and Gibbs needed him working with them. "McGee, you're needed. I can't tell you how much right now, but if you say yes, I'll make all the arrangements."

"I'm sorry, Mr…what did you say your name was? Oh right, Gibbs," McGee said, stressing the last name. Tim hadn't forgotten the man's name; he just didn't find it all that important to retain at the moment. "I'm sorry, Mr. Gibbs, but the little you've said in the few brief moments you've had hasn't intrigued me enough to join you. I don't know you, and I don't care to be whisked off by some stranger to some unknown place, payment or otherwise. You'll have to be slightly more convincing than that."

Gibbs nodded, he should have expected that. "Will you believe me if I tell you?" he asked, hoping that some essence of McGee was intact. "I know someone very like you," he said, plunging onward. "A guy named Tim, sister, Sarah, dad was a career naval officer. He writes books in his spare time, loves jazz and is one of the only men I can trust now to help me out of a situation. But he's not here, Tim… I could tell you facts about him all day but I don't know if they're correct because I'm suddenly here and he isn't. And you're not the Tim I know, the Tim I trained. So I'm asking you for help, hoping that there's something of him in you." Unused to speaking so much, Gibbs stumbled to a stop, taking deep breaths.

It was a lot more than Gibbs had expected to say and he knew rejection would hit hard. He so rarely opened up to people and this man with the same name and voice wasn't his McGee.

The way the stranger spoke triggered some unknown trust response in McGee; something he was unused to, yet intrigued by. "And what is it exactly that you want me to help you with, Mr. Gibbs?" Sure, the man knew facts about his life, but that was nothing that couldn't be figured out with a quick internet search.

"How to get me home," Gibbs admitted very seriously. "You know physics, you know computers, and I don't have anyone else technical that I can turn to or anyone I trust. I know you, Tim. Maybe not the person I have on the phone with me, but there's a Tim McGee out there who…" Gibbs paused, stumbling over his thoughts. "He's someone I respect a lot. Someone on my six. I know you're not him, McGee, but I still need your help." Tony and Kate were dead here, Duck and Ziva didn't exist, Jen was in prison and with Abby as a psychic, she couldn't help with anything scientific.

"All right, Mr. Gibbs. You have my attention now. When and where?"

"Dulles Airport, an hour. I'll take care of everything else. Meet me at the United counter. I'll find you."

Gibbs hung up, sending out a silent prayer that McGee would continue to be receptive.


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Waiting for the elevator doors to close, Tim turned to Tony and Ziva. "Guys? What do you think is going on? Do you really think that Abby could do that? Switch our Gibbs with another? Across dimensions or something like that?"

He knew Abby had always had an interest in the unknown, in the unexplainable. But Tim never thought she'd have the ability to actually do something like this.

Tony hit the button for the ground level. "Coffee run off the Yard," he said abruptly. He wasn't really worried about the other Gibbs, and if they were quick, they could talk about it in the car.

They hurried to Tim's new sedan; it was the best car for all of them to ride in. Once they were settled, Tony in the passenger seat, he twisted, looking at both McGee and Ziva. "We ever known Gibbs to have a younger brother with the same name? I don't know what to believe. It sounds like a movie…"

"Gibbs has no other family living, other than his father. My dossiers were complete. There is no way that man is Gibbs' brother, not someone who looks absolutely identical to him, save the hair and what else age has given to him." Ziva buckled her seatbelt loosely, leaning forward in consideration.

"What do you think, Ziva?" Tony asked. "You have the most information of any of us. Was Jack the type to cheat, could Gibbs have a half brother?" It seemed out there but no more out there than Gibbs going someplace else and a stranger being brought in his place.

"I do not believe so, Tony. From my understanding, Jackson loved his wife very much, regardless of any issues within the marriage. However, I cannot say for prior to the marriage. Or, from the look of Jet and from guessing his age, after she passed. Do you really think that is a possibility? Granted, one that is entirely more plausible than cross-dimensional travel."

"But," Tim piped up, "Where's our Gibbs then? And how do you explain this one? How'd he get into the Navy Yard? He seems to really be confused by everything that's going on, like he doesn't know where is or what he's doing here. So, what? He's just a really good liar? What does your gut say, Tony?"

"I don't have Gibbs' gut," Tony protested, voice tensing. "We didn't do the obvious yet. We haven't tried his cell phone. Tim, dial him. Ziva…when did Gibbs' mom die? Did Jack date a lot afterward? Any of you ever know Abby to play with magic or spells?"

Putting her hand on Tony's shoulder to squeeze it briefly before letting go, Ziva answered him. "No, you do not have Gibbs' gut. You have DiNozzo's gut. And you have successfully used it to solve difficult situations before. Tony, use it now. As for your questions, Gibbs' mother was deceased prior to his leaving for the Marines, prior to his marriage to Shannon. I believe Jack did see a number of women from Stillwater, and I have never known Abby to do something of that nature."

Giving up, Tim tossed his phone to his lap. "He's not answering."

Tony nodded, closing his eyes, rubbing a hand over them. " The number is active, right? Is it registered to our Gibbs?" He pulled in and expelled a deep breath. "What do you do when your head and your gut don't agree? My gut says there's something to this but my head says there's no way, that this is something out of a movie or something we'd see on the science fiction channel alongside Mega Shark and Attack of the Killer Tomatoes, which was actually a pretty cheesy movie and a cult classic but…" Tony forced himself to stop there, hoping someone else would jump in.

"Then we do what we have been trained to do, Tony. We follow the clues, we follow the evidence, no matter where it may lead us," Ziva offered.

"You indicated on the ship that Mossad taught you a lot. Have you ever heard of anything like this? Or you, Probie? Ever heard or see things outside of the science fiction movie realm? Quantum Physics or whatever." It was all technically beyond Tony, but McGee was brilliant, had gone to MIT and Hopkins. If anyone could puzzle out the science side, it was him.

Ziva considered his question, taking a moment to figure out exactly which boat he meant. "On the _Chimera_, Tony? Yes, Mossad trained us to look beyond what we can see, but never anything like this. They never went to what exists beyond our own world."

"Tony, I've got nothing. This is beyond anything I've ever researched or read about." Tim shook his head, defeated in a sense.

Tony nodded, shivering, remembering the rats and what had happened at the end. "What do your guts say?" he asked quietly. "Abby's right. Everything has been so screwed up since Jenny died." He winced as he said that, glancing at Ziva, who knew he'd been drinking to cope.

Ziva looked towards Tony from the back of the car, understanding what he left unsaid. "Unfortunately, Abby was the only one willing to risk everything to fix what had been broken. But now we join her. My gut is telling me that there is more going on here than we can comprehend, something beyond anything we have experienced before. The answer lies with Abby and what she did last night."

Tim echoed Ziva, unable to better explain it than that. "My gut is saying that we can figure it out. If we stick together on this," he added.

"Do you think he's another Gibbs?" Tony asked quietly, looking from one to the other. He felt more in tune with his teammates in this moment than he had in a long time, probably ever.

"I think the possibility is there, Tony, as scary and bewildering as that may be right now. How else can we explain it?" Leaning forward, Ziva put her hand on Tony's shoulder again, giving him the support she knew he required.

Ziva's words were just what he needed. Tony reached for Ziva's hand as well as Tim's, stacking them one atop the other. "Teamwork," he said seriously, his version of a college football rallying cry. "Team Gibbs. Team DiNozzo for now."

"Team DiNozzo works fine, Tony." Tim smiled at his teammates, his friends. "Long live the campfires," he said, lightheartedly.

"You guys hated those," Tony said affectionately. This was different than last time. He could feel the support now. "We're a team, guys. We'll get through this and figure things out together. I know…" He shrugged. "Things have been crazy since LA, but we're a team and we do our best work together. We owe it to Gibbs."

"We tolerated them, Tony. We did not hate them. They were a part of your progress as much as Gibbs' methods are his. We will find a way through this, as a team, as friends. Gibbs missing, losing Jenny, the team being disbanded and sent around the world, we have much to work through, but we will." Putting her other hand on top of the stack, Ziva squeezed their hands together.

Tony cocked his head, shrugging a little. It hadn't been a good time for any of them. He'd tried, they all had, but it hadn't worked out very well despite all the best intentions. "Okay, we need to work with Abby and this guy. Ziva, we're gonna need him back at Gibbs' desk or Vance'll get suspicious fast. We can fake going over cold cases, but he may need a little coaching. I'll run interference with Vance and the other agents so the rumor mill doesn't start churning."

Tony paused, looking at first Ziva and then McGee. "Any questions?"

"No, not really. Other than how in the hell something like this could happen. But none of us can answer that." Tim looked in his rear view mirror at Ziva who nodded as well. "No, we're good, Tony."

"Don't know that one. You're science guy, Probie," Tony teased lightly. "You guys want coffee or just go back in?"

"I think we're all going to need coffee. And lots of it to get through this." Tim laughed, a short one, but a laugh nonetheless.

From the back seat, Ziva smiled. "I agree. We will need to make sure to be at our sharpest. The coffee will help. We also need to consider Abby's Caf-Pow."

"Yeah, don't want to think of Abbs without it," Tony added, enjoying the camaraderie. He'd missed this. "Onward, Starbucks. Think the new Gibbs drinks it black too?"

Ziva laughed along with him, hearing Tim in the front chuckling as well. "In this dimension or the other, he is still Gibbs. Strong and black is the only way he will take his coffee, I am sure."

"Why don't we get him one then and a Caf-Pow for Abbs?"

"Sounds good, Tony," Ziva replied as Tim pulled the car into the Starbucks parking lot. "Then maybe, when we get back, Abby will have figured something out. But minimally, we need to get this Gibbs in place before Vance gets suspicious."

"Yeah, we'll need to get him to fake it. If he leaves for the day, even with no case, it could be a lot more suspicious. If he's the man we know, he'll be able to think on his feet."

At least Tony hoped so…

~*~

Jet sat quietly, sensing that Abby was ready to break. He finally decided to interrupt the silence. "Have you ever tried a spell before?"

His voice broke the almost deadly stillness of the lab, making her jump in her chair. Looking up from her computer, Abby answered him hesitantly, but honestly. "No, no, I haven't. And I don't even believe it actually exists. And I have no idea how it even worked."

"If it doesn't exist, how am I here?"

"You got me there. But how is it possible that, on my first time, I managed to create this mess? That, as a novice, I happen to find a spell online that gives me the directions to find exactly what it was I was looking for?" Leaning back in her chair, Abby crossed her arms over her chest as she tried to reason the problem out.

"Could someone have been screwing around on my end too?" But who? Nobody he knew was into that stuff.

"Wait a second! That's it! I found something, a website…it had instructions!" Bounding out of her chair, too intent on her mission, Abby tripped on her newest pair of patent leather boots and collided with Jet, wrapping her arms around him to save herself from falling.

When she went running to her computer, Jet grabbed her and they both fell to the floor. He whacked his tailbone hard, grunting. "Couldn't be like five two and anorexic, huh?" he teased.

Brushing the strands of hair that had fallen from her pigtails away from her face, she looked down at him. "Ha, ha. Very funny. Like I haven't heard that before." Abby struggled to sit up, but their limbs were tangled. Suddenly, the wave of desire that had teased her earlier crested as she met his piercing eyes and her body started trembling in response.

"You're in a hurry," he said, his voice lowering, his arms relaxing even as he pulled her closer. "There's something between you and him, isn't there? You're shaking." And she was rubbing her body over his. "You know what happens to a guy when a beautiful girl does that," he whispered, his mouth suddenly very dry.

"There was never anything between me and Gibbs. He's family. That's it." Her gaze traveled down his face, locking on his lips. Why hadn't she ever noticed how delicious his lips were? Why did she, all of a sudden, need to taste to see if they were really as delicious as they looked? "What happens?"

"You can't feel?" he asked, arching an eyebrow. Something about the women in this place had him on a hair trigger and when she started rubbing against him, he'd gotten painfully hard. He closed his eyes, letting his head fall back. "Been far too celibate too long," he admitted, gasping a little at their contact.

When Abby realized what he was referring to, she blushed at her mistake. Ducking her head, she looked at him through her lowered lashes, trying to figure out what to do. She tried to stop from moving, only her body seemed to control her movements without her consent. Watching him laid out underneath her, Abby was beyond tempted. But after all that had happened, how much distain he had shown for her earlier, she was afraid. "Why celibate?"

"Nobody interesting," he replied, a little short of breath. "You gonna tease me or you plan on changing that?" he asked, lifting his head up and looking at her intensely, tongue running over his lower lip.

Her eyes fluttered down to his lips again, entranced as his tongue slicked over his bottom lip. She wanted to taste the trail he left behind, her own tongue darting out between her red lips in an unconscious imitation. Unwittingly, Abby moved closer, her mouth a hairsbreadth from his. She was hypnotized; by his touch, his lips, his voice, his eyes. His warm breath drifted over her skin and the strength to resist fled. Closing the distance between them, she pressed her lips to his, tentatively seeking out his approval.

She brushed her lips against his lightly and he breathed in a shocked gasp. He wasn't sure she would actually kiss him, but he couldn't help holding her close, kissing her deeply and gently as if they had all the time in the world to explore each other's mouths. As if he wasn't in a foreign world. As if she wasn't the one who caused him to be here.

His arms tightened around her and he rolled her over, lying on top of her, commanding the kiss and grinding into her.

Gasping at the feel of him thrusting against her, she let her legs fall apart, digging her heels into the ground and arching up into him. Reaching up, she ran her hands through his hair, loving the feel as it slipped through her fingers. She held his head between her hands as she opened her mouth to his tongue moving against her own.

He was losing himself in her kiss, reaching over to stroke along her neck, her shoulder, squeezing her breast gently. His heart was racing, his blood heating, and he wanted more of her. He lifted her leg, pressing harder against her, drawn to her in every way.

A cry, half plea, half moan, escaped her lips and into his mouth when he pressed his rigid length against her aching core. Her kisses become more frantic as she arched into him again, the need to be possessed by him overwhelming her. Her body screaming for his, she wrapped her leg around his leg, pulling him in tighter as she moved against him. Traveling her hands down his muscled back, she lifted his shirt and pushed her hands underneath, desperate to feel his heated skin.

"Not doing this on the floor of your lab," he gasped, trying to maintain some sort of self-control, even as he pressed harder against her, seeking the pressure of her against his aching length. He was so close to giving in, despite the craziness of the situation.

Everything was out of control. _She_ was out of control. And she liked it. Her world was as crazy for his entrance into it as his was for being pulled out of all that he knew. But they had a connection that had nothing to do with either of their pasts and everything to do with each other. When he pulled away from her, she followed him, trailing kisses and nibbles over his jaw. "Why not? I'm not complaining. Don't you want to?" She had a futon after all. It technically didn't have to be on the floor.

"You can feel how much I want to," he said, laughing in frustration. "But not here, not when anyone can walk in, and on the hard floor. I'm civilized…sometimes." He tried for a smile, having a feeling it was more like a smirk.

Sliding her hand down his body and around his waist, she traced a finger along his erection before cupping him. Rubbing her hand up and down his length, she teased, "Oh, yeah. I can feel… I don't really care for civilized. I'd rather you just take what you want." She'd hoped to harden him further, to entice him past his qualms, but Abby had a feeling that he had made up his mind. And like the other Gibbs, when his mind was made up, there was no dissuading him.

He groaned low but wrenched himself away. "It's wrong. Despite how it feels, it's wrong." He touched her face with one shaking fingertip. "But I want you. Trust me, I want you."

He stood, pulling her to stand beside him. "Let's figure this out. Doesn't mean that I want you any less."

There was something growing between them, despite the shocking circumstances. Despite the bizarre twists of circumstances that had brought them to this point, Abby was a confused mix of nerves and excitement and heat as she watched him.

Giving him a small smile, she said, "You're right, Jet. Of course you're right." Turning away, she headed towards her main computer to run the idea she'd had before toppling into him. And, if she was honest with herself, to put a little space between them, to breathe and try and figure out what just happened.

He leaned in, pulling her close and whirling her around. "This isn't over. You hear me? I mean it." He walked them backward, driving her against her desk. "I'm going to have you really soon, I promise."

His mouth found her neck and he sucked some skin in, nipping it, his hands spanning her waist, his body rubbing over hers. "Can I take care of you?"

Somewhere between a gasp and a grunt left Abby's mouth when she hit the desk. She guessed there'd be bruises on the backs of her legs before long. But when he started sucking at her neck, she forgot all about it. He was making her forget everything, including how to form coherent sentences or to understand what he was saying. "What? Take care of me?" Instead, she moaned, leaning back and clutched her hands at his chest, needing the contact.

"Your body," he said, pressing his hand against her core. "Take the edge off. Help you… concentrate." He found himself falling to his knees, lifting her dress. "Say the word," he whispered, breathing onto her thighs. He wouldn't look up her dress, until he was sure.

"Help me concentrate?" she squeaked. The sight of him kneeling between her legs was intensely erotic, almost enough to send her over the edge. She could feel his heated breath on her skin, her body trembling in anticipation. He was tearing her apart, body and soul. With one word, one touch, she would break apart. But she couldn't manage to say the word he needed to hear. And when she opened her mouth to speak, nothing came out.

He stroked her soft thighs. "Yes or no…yes…or no." Without waiting for an answer and knowing that he was acting completely out of control, he reached under her dress with shaking hands, removing her thong and parting her legs. "Say the word…"

Panties fell away from her body as he pulled them off of her. When he pushed against her legs, she let them fall apart, opening herself up to him, unable to resist. "Yes, Jet. Yes," she breathed, her voice barely audible in the quiet of the lab.

He spread her wide, beginning to taste her center, his mouth moving over her body. "You like that?" he whispered before returning to his task, mouth moving over her body, trying to push her toward the edge. It had been a long time since lust overrode common sense, but he wasn't about to stop now. It had been so damn long since he'd done this.

The intimacy of the moment was almost too much to bear. His dark head slipping between her legs, her body opened and exposed to the lab, the cool air tickling her skin, the sounds coming from both of them… Unable to tear her eyes away from the sight of him, she gasped.

He chuckled against her moist flesh, returning to his task, making love to her with his mouth right there in the middle of her lab where anyone could walk in. It was incredibly kinky and it was turning him on further.

Her whimpers were growing into moans as she tried to stop her body from thrashing around on the table. Digging on hand into his hair, she arched her back, calling out his name as softly as she could, not daring to make too much noise.

He inserted a finger, stroking along her inner walls and feeling her contract around him. "Now. Let it happen now," he ordered gently, licking, nipping, nudging, pushing her toward the edge. His tongue found her bud and he sucked it hard, driving her closer. He needed her to come apart for him.

She was wild above him, her entire being focused on what he was doing. She almost came apart when he pushed his finger inside her. Almost orgasmed when he ordered her. But she climaxed, moaning his name when he sucked her into his mouth. Her orgasm started low in her body, vibrating out into a breath-stealing climax, his name on her lips.

He laughed at her pleasure, at her sound, at the low throaty cry. Banishing all thoughts but her pleasure and her sounds, the sweet spicy taste of her flesh and her juices. He began to lick slower, trying to bring her down slowly.

Abby felt her body collapse as she came down from her climax. Sliding off the desk, she curled around Jet, vibrations and tremors racking her body. Her chest heaving, she tried to catch her breath, trying to get her mind restarted and working again.

He leaned back, settling her against him. He didn't want to admit that had been a mistake; that she couldn't allow herself to get deeply involved with him when she could send him anywhere all of a sudden, but that didn't matter in this moment. It had taken a lot of years for him to connect with a woman again and he wouldn't let his doubts or the crazy circumstances change or ruin that. Right now there was no place he wanted to be but here with her.

Slowly, she came out of her headspace, finding herself nestled in his arms. Lifting her head, she looked into his eyes. Within them, she found his desire, banked but still burning. Trying to ignore the doubt she saw creeping into them, she leaned forward and kissed him deeply, tasting herself on his lips, letting her hand trail down his body to the raging hard-on that was still tenting his pants.

He groaned, kissing her just as hard, his hips driving himself against her. "I can't lose control," he said, wrenching his mouth from hers, panting. "You have to stop. Maybe later…but for now…need you to stop."

Quickly, she popped the button opening, sliding the zipper down. "Why can't you lose control, Jet? I have a feeling you don't lose control enough." Sliding her hand inside his pants, she traced his pulsing heat through the underwear. Before he could do anything to stop her, she pressed her lips against his, moaning as she pushed her hand inside his pants.

"Can't. Your friends…come in…" He choked off a growl when she touched him, his head falling back, body moving. He couldn't have stopped her, didn't want to, that cooler hand against his heated cock, the pressure of her grasp driving him crazy. And he gave up and gave in that easily.

He propped himself up, pulling his pants down. "Might as well take a good look. I did," he teased with a needy sound. His cock was heavy, hard, aching, his balls overfull.

Gasping in a mixture of shock and a little embarrassment, she pinched the inside of his thigh lightly. A devilish look in her eyes, Abby slid down his body, murmuring, "Oh, I plan on having a very good look. And if you're worried about my friends…guess you'll just have to keep an eye on the door."

Her dress fanning around her, Abby knelt on the floor, her breasts pressing into his now naked thigh. A moan escaped her as she licked her lips at what she found at the juncture of his thighs. His cock was standing fully erect, begging for attention. Lowering her head, she licked at the tip, fingernails lightly scraping along the skin of his leg, her hand moving up to grasp his balls.

He wanted to be the gentleman, to push her away, but the moment she licked the tip of his cock and grasped his balls, he was gone, his dick surging into her mouth. It had been a long time, and he had been so busy, he hadn't dated much. And he'd never done casual relationships.

That reminder shook him up a little, but he shoved it aside, his hand cupping the back of her head, low groans bursting forth. He needed this so much…

Feeling his hand on her scalp, Abby would have smiled if she could. Instead, she moaned, occupied by his invasion of her mouth. Her tongue pushed around his throbbing heat as her hand gently rolled his balls in her fingers. With her free hand, she slowly worked the length of him, her head moving up and down as she drove him higher.

He tried to laugh but instead he groaned low, pumping himself in and out of her mouth. "Look into my eyes," he whispered. He was getting far too close to the edge already, and that shook him up. He wanted to wait longer but she was working against his control. She was so damned good.

Her moan came from deep in her throat as he thrust over and over. Hearing his order, she looked up, meeting his eyes with hers. Letting go of his balls as they bounced from the force of his movements, she reached around and squeezed his ass, her nails biting into his flesh.

He let out a low growl that went on until he no longer had breath. As he pulled in deep gulps of air, he erupted into her mouth, his eyes finally closing, his entire body screaming out in completion.

Sliding up until the tip was left in her mouth, she stroked him with both hands as she licked and sucked him dry. Releasing him, she continued to lap at his cock slowly, making sure she'd had every bit of him.

He groaned and breathed heavily, his body still shaking with aftershocks. "That was fantastic," he whispered, pulling on her hand. "Come here and kiss me," he said, his voice low, his body completely satisfied.

Following the pull on her hand, she slid up his body, nestling herself in his lap. Leaning in close to him, she whispered against his lips. "How does it feel to lose control?"

He shrugged at that, a little embarrassed that it had been that easy. "Now I just want to curl up somewhere with you and go to sleep." His smile faded when reality crashed in. He didn't have a home, a place to stay. This wasn't where he was from or where he belonged.

Looking up at him, Abby grew afraid. This wasn't the look she expected to see. Instead of seeing him satisfied or pleased or even still predatory, he looked…she didn't know what he looked like. But whatever it was, it wasn't good. "What, Jet? What is it?"

He shook his head, holding her close, fiercely. "Shh. Just hang on to me. Hang on real tight." He was half expecting he'd fade away, was dealing with the fact that he wanted to spend more time with her, now torn between the two worlds.

Something had spooked him, whether he wanted to tell her or not. A goose over his grave, her grandmother would say. Knowing his mind was elsewhere, she set about putting their clothes back to rights. Pulling up his underwear and pants, she smoothed the wrinkles out of his clothes, then straightened her own, searching out her wayward panties. Moving back into his arms, she did as he had asked and held on to him, wrapping her arms around his back, burying her face in his neck.

"How can I leave you now?" he whispered into her hair. "How can I leave this? Was easy before. That was home. But you… I don't want a connection here, dammit." But he had one, he knew it. She made him feel things he had no business feeling. "I'm torn now," he finished simply. He couldn't explain the complex emotions swirling inside, didn't know how to make sense of it all or even what it meant. But he wasn't a fool; he knew what it was like to be completely connected to a woman, and with this one he was. It made no sense, it was far too soon, and yet it was happening, whether he liked it or not.

It was far too early to make any judgment calls, but he knew himself and knew how he thought and felt. This was someone special to him, someone it would hurt to give up, even though they'd barely met.

Abby clung to him tighter, not knowing what to say. She could understand their connection; she had a deep one with his counterpart. Only with Jet, they had a bond that was completely different. There was something there, something that had happened when their bodies were out of control. It should have been nothing. They'd just fooled around, nothing more, nothing special about that. But she knew she was lying to herself. There had been something special between them, far beyond the physical. From the moment she'd charged into the squad room and into the middle of guns drawn, Abby's life had been changed. He'd changed it.

He was Gibbs and he wasn't. Soon, he'd be gone, back to the home he knew and away from her. And she'd let him, Abby realized. She would probably encourage him to go. Like he said, that other place was home, not here, not with her. And she wouldn't be selfish, not with him. Having him stay, just for her, would be the most selfish thing she could do. So, she wouldn't. Even if it meant turning her back on him, she would make sure he got home.

Realizing the pain that was coming, Abby felt warm tears running down her cheeks and into the side of his neck.

"Don't cry," he whispered. He knew this sounded stupid, that there was no way he should feel connected to anyone or anything. But there was something brewing between them and he knew in his gut that she felt it as well.

"This is so real," he whispered, at a loss to say anything else.

Sniffing a little, Abby reached up to brush away her tears. "I'm sorry, Jet. I didn't mean to cry." She knew she had to be strong, that she'd have to make some hard decisions. And never more did she wish Gibbs was here. Her Gibbs. The other Gibbs, since they were both hers now in different ways. He'd know what to do, what to say. But he was gone, because of her mistakes.

Whatever was going on between her and Jet was wild and out of control and she craved it. She hadn't been expecting it and had no defenses against his sudden invasion into her life. And if she was to fix what she had broken, she would have to let him go, regardless of their connection. But for now, until the moment she had to watch Jet leave, she'd hang onto him with everything she had.

"It's okay," he assured, just watching her. They'd unleashed something new and frightening. He was worried they might lose themselves in the process.


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Gibbs tried to stay relaxed, sipping a coffee as he waited at the terminal. He'd thrown a few changes of clothes in an overnight bag. The other him dressed a little more formally than he did, his tastes were a bit more expensive, but the stuff looked and felt comfortable enough. He left a note for Kelli and went into the outbox of his email program, sending her an email as well. He was quite proud of himself for thinking of that. She might wonder what the emergency was, but he didn't much care.

Gibbs watched the people, wondering if he might see someone he knew. As he waited for McGee to arrive, he kept hoping he wasn't being stood up.

Shaking his head at this foolhardy decision, Timothy walked through the airport terminal, not really knowing what he was heading towards. Looking around, he was unsure of who he should be searching for, though he'd hope to somehow spot the man that went with the voice on the phone.

McGee walked almost right in front of Gibbs. He would have recognized this Tim, even though there were quite a few differences as well. The hair was a little longer than it had been at NCIS, the body a little more rounded, the face looked a little younger, less hardened. "Tim," he said, standing and extending a hand. "Gibbs."

Looking at the hand almost contemptuously, Tim looked up and regarded the man who'd made such a cryptic phone call. "Mr. Gibbs. Care to tell me what I'm doing here?"

"Like I said, need your help. I woke up here." He pulled out his wallet and showed a picture of a younger man who looked like him and a girl, the date on the picture a week ago. "Instead of him. In my life, I'm a federal agent, you're one of my agents at an agency called NCIS; Naval Criminal Investigative Service. Know it sounds crazy, but tell me how I changed that much in such a short time. Why I remember a different world."

"You mean, other than the fact you could be suffering from a psychotic break and I came here on a fool's errand, possibly putting my life in danger?" Tim knew the question was snippy and a little bitter, but that was a possibility he greatly considered. Only he wasn't getting a dangerous vibe from the man, insane or not.

"You think that is the case?" Gibbs asked quietly. He handed the man his double's cell phone. "Hit dial on the number that says Abby. She'll tell you things she has no business knowing. True things." At least he hoped she would. He sent out a silent prayer that the other him had fully charged this cell phone.

Pushing the cell phone back towards the stranger, Tim asked, "How can I trust a random woman on a cell phone any more than you, Mr. Gibbs? If what you say is true, then tell me something you have no reason to know, something that only a person close to me would know." And heaven knows, there weren't too many who were.

Gibbs regarded the young man in front of him for long moments, hoping he was right about this Tim as well. "At night, when no one is looking and no one knows, you put on jazz records and write on a manual typewriter. You always wanted to be a novelist, wanted to write thrillers. And you're damned good, McGee." He paused, swallowing.

"You're scared of heights. You play an online MMRPOG where you're an Elf Lord. When you were sixteen, you were given a brand new car by your parents and got into an accident with it on your birthday. You still don't remember what happened that day."

Working on instinct now, pulling impressions from his time with McGee, he tried to paint a picture. "Always been drawn to law, but you were never sure why. At some point, you made a choice between law enforcement and computers. You're drawn to bad girls. You always wanted an older brother and to belong in your peer group. You're a lefty but only those who have seen you write or draw a gun know that. You lack confidence but you have guts and good instincts."

Done for now, he regarded McGee with a level stare.

"What in the hell…?" Turning away, McGee began to pace along in front of the tall window that covered a wall of the airport. How in the hell did this stranger know about his writing and about Elf Lord?! Granted some of the stuff didn't apply to him. But the rest…

"Not taking shots in the dark here, Tim," Gibbs said, coming up behind the man and squeezing his shoulder gently.

"God, there's no way you could know that," he replied as he shrugged off the touch, turning towards the stranger. "How do you know all that?"

"Because you and my McGee are related somehow. Just like I look like him, but I'm not him," Gibbs said, showing McGee the license. "You won't understand. I don't either, but Abby knows and can help me get home."

He regarded McGee with a level stare. "I need your help, Tim. You can tell I'm not him. He's years younger than me. I'm not from this place. I'm from another place, somewhat like this one."

"Well, time hasn't altered all that much, maybe, what five years, no more than fifteen. Could be time travel… but you would have remembered jumping forward in the future. And other than a few facts, the rest about me is wrong. So that crosses out time travel." Tim's brain worked rapidly at the problem, trying to find a viable solution. "Perhaps cross-dimensional travel… but how is that possible?" he asked to no one in particular. Looking up, he added, "How can I possibly help you?"

"I'm not an NCIS Special Agent here, Tim. I run a company. A company I don't remember. I have one ex-wife, not three and my first wife died and we never married. My daughter never existed. Not time travel. Something much…more."

Gibbs gave the man a thin smile, answering his question. "Your mind. You're brilliant. I need your scientific mind on this, Tim. I want to go home…"

"And you think this… Abby is going to be able to do that?"

"Don't know," Gibbs admitted. "Think you're both pieces of the puzzle. And in my world you two work really well together." He stared into Tim's eyes, hoping he was convincing.

"And where is this Abby now?" Against his better judgment, Tim was drawn to this stranger, believed him despite his outrageous claims.

"New Orleans. Have a ticket for you, if you're willing to go. What have you got to lose, Tim?"

"My life? My sanity?" Tim was sorry for his caustic attitude. But honestly, what could the other man expect? Sighing, he gave himself one more moment to change his mind, before he put his life into fate's hands.

"The risk of not unraveling a mystery," Gibbs said. He slipped out a business card. "Call your people and have them run traces." He didn't mention that L.J. wasn't him, though he knew Tim knew that. "And I'm a federal agent, Tim. Before that, I was an MP in the Marines." And in between those, a sniper, but Gibbs wouldn't mention that.

Taking the card from the man, he didn't tell the man he already had once that initial call from Gibbs had come through. "When does the plane leave?"

"Forty minutes. You packed a bag or we need to pick you up some stuff when we get there?" Gibbs replied. "What does Sarah do here?"

Tim gestured to the bag slung over his shoulder. "I always have a bag packed. Get called out on government work all the time. My sister, Sarah? She's in charge of rare books in the Library of Congress." In truth, he never really paid attention to his sister when she went on and on about her job, so he couldn't describe it to the man. His mind was always somewhere else, solving some other equation. His sister knew. She understood, at least Tim hoped she did.

Gibbs smiled slightly. "Good. Glad she's doing okay here. You have anything published here? Your name over there is Thom E. Gemcity, one book released, second you're finishing writing now. Ran into some writer's block." Gibbs motioned to the security area. "Let's get your ticket and go to the gate."

Walking alongside of him, Tim considered his answer. "No, I'm not a published fiction writer. I'm published under mathematics. But not fiction. That was always kinda my hobby, but I never indulged."

"You should. You're good. Read your book, _his_ book." Gibbs shrugged. "Hard to think of you as not him, though I see it. Different body language, slightly different features." Gibbs got McGee's ticket organized and waited until they were through security to continue the conversation.

"You have a confidence that is still growing in him."

All of this was almost too much for Tim's advanced brain to process, but in order to do so, he had to accept some norms. One of which was the existence of a self that wasn't him, a self that looked and sometimes acted like him, but who apparently made many different decisions about his life. "Perhaps we are not so similar, your McGee and I."

"Probably no more similar than the other Gibbs and I am. Apparently he goes by L.J. or Jet and I go by Jethro." From the pictures in the den at the house, Gibbs assumed the other man had been a Marine as well, but they had different lines of work now.

"Jethro? Really?" Tim was momentarily shocked at that. The name didn't fit the gruff stranger. Though, in reality, Tim couldn't think of a name that would work any better. "What does the "L" stand for?"

"Leroy," Gibbs said, remaining impassive. "Leroy Jethro Gibbs. Most people call me Gibbs."

"Gibbs works. You don't really seem like Leroy Jethro, though more Jethro than Leroy I guess." Looking at his ticket, McGee found the terminal they needed and proceeded to sit down to wait for their flight.

Gibbs hitched up a shoulder, giving the other man a faint smile. "You go by Tim or what?"

"What," he tried to joke. "Tim works, or Timothy is fine too."

"Buy ya a coffee, What?" Gibbs asked with a smirk.

Giving the older man a half smile, Tim nodded. "Sure, that would be great."

Gibbs paid for their two coffees and then sat down at the gate. "First class tickets," he remarked. "You want to talk, or you interested in getting a book or something?" They'd board soon, but the flight was at least a couple of hours.

At first, Tim faltered, not knowing what he wanted to do. In truth, he was drastically curious about everything the man had said. But the rational part of his brain continued to deny what he had been told. "Tell me more…about where you come from?"

Gibbs nodded, sipping his coffee and finding an out of the way place for them to sit down where they wouldn't be easily overheard. "Don't know what the fundamental differences are here, if any." There could have been different wars fought, different presidents and leaders elected. Different lives, and he had no idea. He decided to start with himself.

"I was born in a town called Stillwater, in Pennsylvania. Joined the Marine Corps after high school, served in Desert Storm." He paused when Tim looked confused.

"Desert Storm?" Tim asked, prompting him to explain further.

"Yeah…you…?" Gibbs arched a brow, leaning in close, whispering now. "You didn't fight Desert Storm here? War in the Middle East, with Iraq. Was there a 9/11 attack? September eleventh?"

"September eleventh? What are you talking about? We haven't fought in any battles since…since World War II. We've been in the Cold War with Russia and her allies for decades." Tim was even more worried now, if that was possible, that the man who was taking him to New Orleans was truly insane.

Gibbs exhaled slowly, nodding. "Okay, looks like we have a different history then. We'll talk about it at length when we're in a quieter place." He had to focus on himself then. "I was in the military, in the Marine Corps for fifteen years. I retired after I…" He paused. This was so damned hard to talk about. It should have been easier telling a stranger but that stranger wore McGee's face. "My family passed away. I joined NIS, which became NCIS—Naval Criminal Investigative Service. We investigate crimes against Navy and Marine personnel and their dependants. I'm a senior investigator, I man a team of three other investigators."

Tim didn't know much about the federal agencies that seemed to run the country. He generally kept his head down and his nose in a computer program until some government agency with some odd acronym would need his help. "You said that you know this Abby we're going to see. How? What importance does she have in all of this?"

"Don't know," he admitted. "I work with a girl named Abby Sciuto. She's the forensic specialist, a good friend." He didn't know how to explain the relationship between himself and Abbs. It was too flirtatious to be explained away as father/daughter, too protective to be just friends, not romantic, despite their heavy flirtation.

"She's brilliant," he said instead, focusing on Abby's intelligence. "And she worries about me. When I found myself here, I looked all of you up, my team members, the people I work closely with, my family. Most of them are dead or unable to be found." Gibbs paused, drinking his coffee. He wasn't used to, or comfortable with, speaking this much.

"Found Abby. She's a psychic here. She knew I was from someplace else, invited me to come down. Sounds like the real deal."

Swirling his coffee, Tim asked, "How do you know she wasn't the one who brought you here?"

"Don't," he said with a shrug. "Guess you and me, we're gonna find out." Gibbs was fascinated with the idea that 9/11 hadn't happened. And no Vietnam…all those American lives saved. "What does your father do?"

"My father? He passed away."

Gibbs cocked his head, nodding. Sounded like the McGees had a fairly different life. "The other Tim—my Tim—" he said, clarifying, "was the son of a career Naval officer. Don't think his mother worked at all." Gibbs paused. "Just you and Sarah?"

"Yeah. Dad was in the Navy for about five years. There was another, a girl, who died when she was eight. I think I was four or five at the time. Mom had named her Ziva; some name she read in a romance novel, probably. Some maniac came on the base with a gun. His wife had been cheating on him with a Navy Seal. Mom had taken Ziva and me to the park, Sarah was in the stroller. Ricochet went right into the carriage, passing over Sarah's head and hitting Ziva. Mom was never Mom after that." Tim froze then, realizing how much he'd just told this complete stranger.

Gibbs closed his eyes, shaking his head. "Ah, hell, Tim…. Hell…" This one hit him particularly hard. Ziva had been related to Tim in this place…and she'd died.

Gibbs pulled in a deep breath, nodding. Tony and Ziva were dead, Tim was the only one left of his team here. The fact that they weren't his team here didn't matter, they were still his.

"Damned shame. I put dirtbags like that away… It's what I do." Gibbs paused, knowing the man was astute enough to want more. "My core team consisted of three investigators. Tony DiNozzo, Tim McGee and…Ziva David. Tony in this place died of anthrax poisoning. And Ziva…" Gibbs shrugged, knowing his eyes were extra bright, knowing the emotion had to be swimming in them.

"What do you mean? Are you telling me that somewhere, wherever it is that you're from, Ziva is still alive? That she hadn't been killed by that bullet?" Tim sat up straight then, his coffee forgotten as he'd tried to process what the man was telling him.

He could still remember his older sister, tanned dark from the summers by the lake. She would laugh and bring him flowers, even though he pretended to hate them 'cause he was a boy. But for four years, she had been his. Then she was gone. And he'd never been able to understand why.

People were starting to look. Gibbs slung an arm around Tim's shoulder. "Come on, son," he said gently. "Let's go to the gate." There would be more privacy there. Gibbs grabbed both of their bags in his free hand, leading Tim gently but firmly to a gate across from theirs, one that was abandoned.

"Ziva isn't your sister in my world. She's an Israeli national, the daughter of the director of Mossad. But yeah…she's alive, Tim. And if we can figure it out, you can come back with me and see her for yourself."

"She's Israeli? Mossad? How can that…" But Tim knew. Nothing was the same between the two places. Without thinking about it, almost like it was natural to be led by this man, being called "son" by him, Tim walked towards the gate.

"Damned if I know," Gibbs said quietly. "Why are most of you gone? Only Tony was in law enforcement… Why are you a special agent at home and…what the hell do you do here, Tim?" He pulled in a breath. "Abby is the key. My gut is telling me that. Let's get down there, figure things out as we go."

"I work in a think tank funded by the government. I work out puzzles, riddles, whatever they need me to. Sometimes I design new technology, experimental for the D.O.D." Nodding his head, Tim stood there shaking, knowing he'd be haunted for the rest of his life by what this man had told him. Ziva was alive. She hadn't been killed by a madman's bullet. Hearing the boarding call, he turned to Gibbs. "If this is a joke, some sick way of messing with me, I will kill you. I'll do whatever I have to, to make sure you don't do this to someone else. But if it isn't…"

Gibbs waited until they were seated in first class and then turned to McGee. "Tim, look me in the eyes and trust your gut. I am not lying to you. I wouldn't lie about something like that. It isn't a lie. I work beside Ziva every day… Tim, I don't know if it is the same Ziva you know, but I suspect it is."

"What..." he started, hesitantly, vulnerability slipping out. "What is she like?"

Gibbs reached over, squeezing Tim's shoulder gently. "Passion, and fire, and…" He struggled for words to describe her. "She's smart but guarded, she has great instincts but a hair trigger temper, sometimes she reminds me of a wild horse running free. She came to me a Mossad operative but she's turned into a hell of an investigator. She's got long, dark curly hair and deep brown eyes, thin but muscular, very exotic looking. She takes no prisoners in any aspect of her life and she can be one of the boys."

Gibbs gave Tim a gentle smile. "What do you want to know specifically?"

"Is she happy? Is her life…good?" There was so much he wanted to ask about her, but he just couldn't form the words.

That was a complex question. "Her life is fairly good. She likes what she's doing with NCIS, but her family ties to Mossad are…thorny." That was the best way to put it. "Think she's seeing a guy, a fellow operative. She seems happy." At times. "But I don't think she's found what she needs from life yet, Tim."

Nodding his head, Tim tried to absorb all the information Gibbs had given him. It was almost too much to process. Luckily, at that moment, the plane was revving her engines and the stewardesses were reviewing the emergency procedures.

Gibbs stayed quiet, leaning close to Tim. When they'd taken off, he reached over, patting the other man's knee. "She's a hell of a woman, Tim, and if I have the chance, you'll get to see her again."


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Tony juggled his coffee and Caf-Pow for Abbs as they walked back in to NCIS. They had to get this Gibbs with the program soon or Vance'd be breathing down their necks. Ziva had her own tea and Gibbs' coffee and McGee had his drink as well and a bag of bagels and pastry. If they were sprung while they were coordinating, they could always invent some holiday or celebration.

As they approached Abby's lab, Tony listened for any signs of distress.

"Hey, Abbs," he said, entering. "Everything okay?"

Hearing the ding of the elevator, Abby knew their time alone was at an end. Sitting up, she wiped at her cheeks. "I look okay?" she whispered. Calling out, she answered Tony as she moved off of Jet's lap. "Yeah, Tony. We're fine. Everything go okay?"

"Yeah, came with coffee and Caf-Pow." He looked closely at Abby, wondering about the redness and puffiness of her eyes. "You sure you're okay, Abbs?"

"I'm sure, Tony. I'm fine." Holding out her hands, she tried to give him an impish smile. "Can I have my Caf-Pow now? Please?"

"Course," Tony said, handing her the drink. "Got you a coffee, Gibbs, just the way you like it." He watched as the other man climbed to his feet.

"Oh?" Jet said with a small smile. "Light cream, two sugars?"

Abby snorted because she knew that was the exact opposite of what Tony had gotten him. "I think I have some sugar somewhere," she offered.

"You mean they got it without sugar? Who drinks coffee without sugar? Best thing to happen to coffee is lattes."

Tony couldn't help the small burst of laughter that came out. "Even if I didn't know he was different, now I know."

Pulling out the small jar of sugar from her storage area, the one she kept for Tony for when his coffee wasn't sweet enough, Abby handed it to Jet, giving him a shy smile. She didn't know how to act around him now, after what had just happened in her ballistics lab.

Seeing her friend's awkwardness, Ziva walked towards her as Abby moved away to her computer. "You okay, Abby?" she asked, concerned.

Pulled out of her reverie, Abby looked up quickly at Ziva before settling into her chair. "Yeah, Ziva. I'm fine. Thanks for the Caf-Pow, Tony."

"No, you are not fine. Did he hurt you?" Ziva was ready to deal with the stranger if he had, consequences or no.

"No, no, Ziva. I promise. He didn't hurt me. It's just…hard." Abby hoped her poor explanation would be enough to cover. But she could tell from Ziva's face that she didn't believe her, even if she left it alone for now.

Jet eyed Abby carefully, moving closer. "You okay?" he asked, brushing a lock of her hair off her face.

"Abbs?" Tony asked in shock, watching the casual way the other man touched his friend. He wanted to strike out but he was trying to be leaderly…for now, anyway.

Ducking her head a little bit, she turned into Jet's hand, whispering, "I'm okay. Just...in shock. By everything. By you." Looking up at him through her lashes, she smiled, wanting to reassure him.

Hearing Tony call her name, she turned to him, unaware of how bizarre her interaction with Gibbs appeared to the rest of the team. "Yeah, Tony?"

"Ballistics lab," Tony said, motioning to the door. "You two make nice with him." Tony strode into the smaller room, turning to Abby and waiting for the door to close. The scent of lovemaking was heavy in the air. "Did he force you?" he asked urgently.

"Force me? No, Tony. No, he didn't force me. We didn't...nothing happened." Not really, she added silently. And she wasn't lying. They hadn't had sex…technically.

"Then what did you do, Abbs?" Tony asked wearily. He wanted to believe she wouldn't be stupid enough to have sex with some stranger with Gibbs' face, but some days he wondered about her.

"What I did or did not do with Jet is between me and him, not me and everyone else who takes an interest." Instantly, she regretted her snappish tone. Pressing her fingers against the bridge of her nose, she tried to stop the headache that was creeping in. "I'm sorry, Tony. I didn't mean it like that. I know you're only trying to take care of me. I'm just tired." And confused.

"It's okay," Tony said quickly. "I'm just worried, Abbs. We don't know positively how he got here or who he is beyond what he told us… Or what's going on with Bossman." Tony was worried on many different fronts.

She moved forward, hugging him tightly. "He's a good man, Tony. He's Gibbs, just different. Trust my gut on that."

"Just don't know him. Remember he has Gibbs' face, but he isn't the same Gibbs we know, Abbs. That is a warning for all of us not to get too close."

"He may be younger and have a different past, but underneath all of that, he's the same man, Tony. I would recognize Gibbs anywhere, just like I would with you or Tim or Ziva or Ducky…"

"Okay, but he isn't our Gibbs," Tony pressed. "He isn't the guy we know. Might still be a good guy but he isn't our Gibbs. Just be careful, he doesn't have that history with you that Bossman does."

"I'll be careful, Tony. Promise. Won't do anything stupid."

"Give me a hug?" Tony asked. He wanted to hold her, as if he could protect her from all of this, what she'd done and the fallout.

"Of course, Tony." Wrapping her arms around his neck, she hugged him tight, knowing they both needed the support right then.

"Can you get them back?" he asked quietly. What he wanted to ask was did this change her feelings for the other Gibbs, did she want to keep him around as well. He hoped it wouldn't go all Back to the Future on them.

Pulling back, she saw the flicker of doubt in his eyes and she shook her head. "I don't know for sure, but I'm going to do everything I can to bring him back, Tony. To bring them both home."

"But you complicated things, didn't you, Abbs? You and he…" Tony sighed into her hair, holding her closer.

"Tony, I think I started off today complicating things. What's one more thing in my list of complications? Besides, I trust him. And we didn't…" She tightened her arms around his neck, knowing how much stress her friend was already under.

"Don't care, don't want to know," Tony replied, trying to put her at ease.

Jet gave the other two agents a small smile and shrugged, trying to hold back the urge to go in and check on Abby. "Good coffee."

Ziva watched him warily, her concern blossoming after Tony took Abby out of the room. Approaching him, she asked, "Did you do something to Abby? Why is she behaving differently now?"

He didn't owe them an explanation, but he wasn't interested in being confrontational either. They'd had enough of that earlier. "We connected," he said simply.

"Connected how?" Tim blurted out.

"Formed a bond," Jet replied, unwilling to say much else.

Standing to the side of him, Tim tried not to be confrontational, but with Abby… "Did you hurt her?"

"No. That would be breaking a connection," Jet pointed out. He wasn't going to kiss and tell even though he knew it annoyed the other people.

Tim narrowed his eyes at the man's smart ass remark. "If you hurt her, in any way, it won't just be me who you'll have to answer to. It is the assassin, the cop and your double when he comes back as well. If you hurt Abby, force her, make her cry, the Gibbs that we know will be the one you should run from. He's protective over her. More than any of us. Don't hurt her," he warned.

Jet sighed, shaking his head, trying to remain calm. They'd had enough fighting today. "Ask her if you don't believe me, but I haven't hurt her." He understood their protectiveness but he could do without confrontation and maybe that was why he shot his mouth off. "Not my double. Looks older. Not as in shape."

"Enough, please," Ziva commented, stepping between the two. "We have had enough of that for today, yes? Enough posturing and fighting and blowing things out of proportion. We have much to figure out if we plan on keeping the situation under our control."

Turning fully to the man who looked so much like their boss, but different, she added, "But do not think this gets you off the hook, L.J. I will talk with Abby. She will tell me, one way or the other."

He kept his temper—barely. "Go on. Speak with her. She'll tell you the same that I do." There was a protectiveness over their boss, and Abby, that meant many clashes would be in the future, if he stayed long enough to find out.

"For your sake, L.J., I hope so." Giving him a soft smile, Ziva turned away.


	13. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Gibbs was quiet until the plane landed. "You ready for this, Tim?" he asked.

"Honestly, no. But I guess I've come this far…" Sighing, Tim unbuckled his seat belt, reaching for his overnight bag.

Gibbs squeezed his shoulder. "If I can, I'll get you and Ziva together, Tim. You'll be able to look her in the eye. Tell her everything…you wish you could." Gibbs paused a long moment, trying to gather the courage to continue.

"My wife and daughter died and the one thing about this place was the hope that I could…" Gibbs trailed off. "But she's dead," he finished, not specifying which "she" he meant.

"I know, Tim. I understand. I'll make it happen for you."

"Don't make promises, Mr. Gibbs. You can't know. Not yet…" He heard the shadows of pain in the other man's voice. Losing a sister was painful, something that was with him for his entire life. But to lose a wife and a daughter…that was haunting. "I'm sorry, about your wife and daughter. Has it…has it been a long time?"

This was something Gibbs never talked about, but in this place, in an airport in a New Orleans that didn't seem touched by Katrina, he nodded jerkily. "Eighteen years. They were…murdered." The word was still ugly on his lips, choking him. He looked away and swallowed, aware that this Tim might look like the one from his world, even though he was a very different man.

"I'm…sorry. I can't even imagine." Tim stopped there, knowing if the man was anything like him, there wouldn't be anything he could say.

"Yeah, you can," Gibbs said heavily. Sister, wife, child, a little boy's sudden loss, it was all agonizing. "You went through it too, McGee."

"So much violence, tearing apart lives, families. And I live my life behind a computer so that I can try to protect myself against that violence. Don't think I could live through it again."

It all made a lot of sense to Gibbs, why this Tim was a desk jockey. He stayed quiet as they got the rental car organized, and after he'd consulted his map and started the drive, he turned his gaze to Tim briefly. "Don't hide yourself away, Tim. Doesn't benefit anyone, most of all yourself."

"I don't hide, not really. But I don't stick my neck out, that's for sure. Except for today, except for now. And I have no idea why the sudden change." He shrugged.

"You know there is something going on," Gibbs said simply. "You ever hear of Katrina? A hurricane?"

"Yeah, of course. Hurricane destroyed most of New Orleans and this area. Government stepped in. Cleaned and restored the city and surrounding areas. Took care of the people."

"So some things are the same and others… aren't…" Gibbs said softly. "We had Katrina hit here too, but probably worse. But also in the fifties we fought a war in Korea and then in the sixties we fought in Vietnam, Southeast Asia. Then in the early nineties, we had a brief war in the Middle East, Iraq."

"You had a lot of wars where you come from. How have you survived?" Their world was run much differently, everything regulated and accounted for. There were no more wars.

"In Korea, it was a United Nations action. The USA was involved but not solely. North Korea invaded South Korea. The war lasted about three years. Then a few years after that, we became involved in a conflict in Vietnam. We fought there for over fifteen years." Gibbs sighed heavily. "Then about fifteen years ago, we fought a very short war in Iraq. I fought in that one."

"I meant, how has your society survived that many wars? The casualties must have been astronomical." Tim was astonished at the life Gibbs was describing.

"All wars on foreign soil, Tim. We lost fifty-eight thousand men in Vietnam, about three hundred in Iraq, thirty-six thousand men in Korea. And then there was 9/11. You said you didn't have it, which makes sense." Gibbs sighed, tightening his hands on the wheel. When they pulled up to a light, he spoke again, his voice and emotions heavy. This was something he had a lot of trouble talking about.

"On September eleventh, 2001, terrorists hijacked four American airliners. United and American Airlines. Two were flown into the World Trade Center towers, one into the Pentagon. The fourth was downed by passengers, but it was suspected it was heading to take out the Capitol building or White House."

He paused a long moment. "The towers were badly damaged from the heat and fire. And Tim, about ninety minutes after the first impact, they collapsed. Most of the people had been evacuated, but there were still three thousand people lost that day. Many firemen and police responders trying to evacuate the building. Many civilians."

Though Tim may have disagree with the state of the government, he was almost thankful the loss of life in this world was minimal in comparison. Almost. "What happened, after the attack on the Twin Towers?"

"We attacked back, first in Afghanistan and then in Iraq. We're still fighting there, though the president has started withdrawing troops. We couldn't let that just go."

"I understand that." But Tim still shook his head at the loss of life.

"Must be a foreign concept for you," Gibbs remarked quietly. "Just like 9/11 is so surreal to many of us even now. One of the guys on my team—DiNozzo—he's a movie buff. Said that day reminded him of a movie. Guess he was killed in an anthrax attack here. Doesn't sound like you guys avoided all sorts of violence."

"No, we haven't. But our violence lies with espionage and subversive attacks rather than all out war. There will always exist those who try to fight the system." Tim had heard the rhetoric so many times, he could quote it verbatim.

Gibbs shrugged, wondering, wanting to know more of this society. It was starting to sound a little foreign to him, and was raising some alarm bells, but he would wait and see. He nodded, not answering, letting them lapse into silence.


	14. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

There was a little tension when Tony and Abby walked out of the ballistics lab and Tony shot a glance to the Gibbs that wasn't their Gibbs and then over to Ziva and McGee. "You fill him in?"

"No, Boss… I mean, Tony. We waited for you." Tim grew uncomfortable when Abby walked closer to Jet. He didn't like Abby's apparent attachment to the man.

As she walked to him, Abby gave Jet a smile, hoping that her friends hadn't made too big of a deal about what had just happened. Sitting at her computer, she pulled up a search that yielded no results and keyed up another, all the while listening to what plans the team had made.

"Thanks, Tim," Tony said, giving McGee an encouraging nod and barely hiding his smirk over being called Boss. He motioned with his head for Ziva to talk with Abby and went over to the other Gibbs. "We need you to play our boss for now, just until we're done with work today. Are you okay technologically? If we feed you anything you need through instant message or text, will you manage?"

"Think so. You guys don't have any active cases, do you?" Jet asked, trying to adapt to a new mindset.

"Nah, cold case review today, unless something comes in, and if it does we'll fake it the best we can. Right, McGee?" Tony was a little concerned by the expression on Tim's face.

"Right, fake it." Seeing Tony's worried look, Tim relaxed the muscles of his face, knowing he was only making a tense situation even worse. "How are we going to explain his hair and the fact he looks younger? Say Abby forced him to a spa? Think Vance'd fall for that?"

"Not gonna say anything," Tony replied. "If anyone comments, he can just give them that smirk and cock his head. Gibbs, your…counterpart, I guess, he's a silent guy. You should be able to deflect a lot that way." Tony looked at McGee, hoping he agreed.

"Yeah, that would work. Just act like you know everything about what we're working on, but you still want everyone else to figure it out. Gibbs is a great teacher like that. That should work." Tim was hopeful that Tony's scenario would make it less conspicuous of the stranger in their midst.

Jet cocked his head, looking slightly annoyed but smirking anyway. "Like that?"

Laughing despite himself, Tim nodded. "Yeah, that'll do."

"Coach me," he said, directing his attention to Tim.

"Well, for one, Gibbs likes his coffee black and as strong as he can get it. When Tony, Ziva or I are acting immature or are being deliberately irritating, he slaps us on the back of the head. But that's mainly with Tony. Um…he's awful with technology, but great at interrogation. And when he comes down to visit Abby, who's his favorite, he brings a Caf-Pow, especially when she's found answers in the evidence." He looked to Tony to fill in the gaps.

Jet made a small gagging sound at the thought of taking his coffee that way, cataloging all the information. He had an analytical mind and an eye for details, and he knew this would help.

"Boss is the strong, silent type, so you can get away with a lot of silence, and scary looks, and arched eyebrows," Tony said quietly. "And if Tim and I feed you information, we may carry this off without any suspicion."

Taking a moment, Tim considered all the possible different angles, trying to find any huge holes in the plan. "Yeah, I think that's going to work. With us filling in the details and you staying in that Gibbs mode…we can give Abby the time she needs."

That was all contingent on Abby fixing this situation, but Jet didn't dare say that. "Okay. I can handle it. I'm used to the heat."

"That's good. You're gonna be facing a lot of heat, Bossman , especially from Vance. The two of you have very…antagonistic interactions. As long as you're aware of what's coming." Tim liked the confidence in this man. That was definitely a trait the Gibbses shared.

"What sort of heat? Think your bosses have any idea? How are we spinning what happened upstairs?"

"Training session," Tony replied, glancing at McGee and then Ziva. "We can spin it if the director doesn't get too suspicious. You and he have a relationship that none of us understand." Had Tony called this guy Bossman? Had Probie? This was getting too easy, they were responding to the man as Gibbs.

Tony too a breath, nodding, centering himself. "Tim? Can you get into the personnel files, let L.J. here read up on Gibbs' history?"

"Yeah, that shouldn't be too hard. When we go upstairs, I'll pull it up on Gibbs' computer. It'll even look like your doing research or something." Tim's mind was working on how best to play this, how best to protect them all.

"Thanks," Tony said quietly to McGee. Directing his attention to the double of his boss, he nodded. "When we leave this room, you become 'Boss' to us, but you can come to me, I've been team leader before and I know how that goes. Tim'll be your guy for technical stuff and I'll be your guy for the rest."

Jet nodded. "Sounds good. Your boss is a lucky guy. You seem like a crack team." He wondered how the dark haired woman fit in, but didn't ask yet.

"We try," Tony said, shrugging, quietly pleased. But the praise made him miss Gibbs all the more. Sure, he was a bastard, but he was _their_ bastard.

While the guys schemed and planned, Ziva pulled Abby aside. "Abby?" She knew she didn't have to say anything more. Abby would understand what Ziva didn't have to say out loud.

Moving over to her Mass Spectrometer, Abby pretended to fiddle with the machine, trying to figure out what she was going to say. "Yeah." Sighing, she looked at her friend. "I don't know what happened. I was working on trying to figure out what I did, had an idea and rushed to search it out. I tripped. He caught me. And we…"

"And you what, Abby? Did you have sex with him?" Ziva asked in a fervent whisper.

"No!" she exclaimed, causing the men to look over at them. Grabbing Ziva's arm, she turned her around so that they faced the wall again. Going back to a whisper, she tried to explain. "No, we did not have sex. But that doesn't mean I didn't want to. And if he'd been anything less than a gentleman, we would have. Ziva… there's just something…"

"And you are not confusing this…connection," Ziva began, using L.J.'s own word. "You are not confusing this connection with him with the relationship you have with our Gibbs?"

"No, Ziva. No. I'm not. At least, I'm pretty sure I'm not. They're completely different people, even if they do share a face. They have the same qualities, the same basic character, but they're different people, Ziva. I can tell them apart. And my relationship with our Gibbs never went to that level."

"And you are not getting in over your head, are you Abby? What happens when he has to return to wherever it is you pulled him from?" Ziva put her arm around her friend, seeing the shadows come into Abby's green eyes.

"I don't know, Ziva. I just don't know. But I have to figure out a way to bring our Gibbs home. I have to focus on that."

Jet focused on the women, crossing the room and standing next to them. "You okay?" he asked gently.

"Yes, we are." Offering Abby a little smile, Ziva gave the two what privacy the lab could offer. "I believe I will catch up on the plan you guys worked out before we introduce you upstairs."

As Ziva walked by her, Abby squeezed her hand in thanks. Turning to Jet, she blushed a little. "I'm okay. Did those two give you a bad time?" she asked, concerned.

"I can hold my own," he assured her. "They're okay. Worried about you and their boss. Worried about me pulling this it off. Nothing I can't handle. You?" Now that he was close to her again, he could feel the chemistry between them. He couldn't deny it, didn't _want_ to deny it. But if they didn't watch out, he was going to kiss her right here in front of everyone.

"Tony's worried that we don't really know who you are, and I shouldn't get involved any more than I already have. Ziva's concerned…she wanted to make sure I knew what I was doing." Reaching out her hand, she slid her fingers over his wrist and up his arm. "And I do know. I do know what I'm doing. And I do know you. I don't know how. It goes beyond having two of you now in my life. This has nothing to do with him. There's something about you… I know you."

"They're right," he said quietly. They were absolutely right and he appreciated that they were worried and concerned. He understood what she was saying, as impossible as it was. He was as drawn to her as she was to him.

"Even so, I trust you. I know you. And that's all I need." Despite the others, she reached up and kissed him on the cheek.

He turned his face, pressing his mouth to hers and pulling her into a hug.

"Oh, Jet." Opening her mouth to him, she ignored the rest of the room, concentrating only on him.

He groaned, his hand tightening in her hair, his body pressing against hers. His eyes closed and he gave over to her kiss.

She buried her hands in his hair as he tilted her back. She should be embarrassed, she should be feeling all the eyes in the lab on her, but she didn't. Her entire world was focusing in on the man, on his embrace. Nothing else mattered.

When he realized he had her bent over the table, grinding against her, he pulled away reluctantly, staring into her eyes. Hell…right now he didn't want to go home, didn't want to figure out or deal with this.

"Don't send me away," he whispered against her mouth.

Grabbing his head with her hands, she pulled a little back, looking at him in shock. "Jet? But…but I thought you wanted to go back, that you had a life there, that you didn't want to be stuck in this world. Why?"

"You," he replied quietly, for her ears only. "You," he replied, voice a little firmer now, He couldn't explain what this was between them, but he didn't want to spend a lifetime wondering what he could have had, One thing he knew was that he needed to know more about this.

"Me," she repeated, stunned. Pulling him to her, she kissed him more passionately, despite their company. Could she have it all? Her boss back, and this man with their strange connection, could they both stay? If this man wanted it, if Jet really wanted to stay with her, she would do whatever she could to make that happen.

"You," he replied, happy and sad at the same time. He was completely overwhelmed with the situation and his feelings for her. They needed to get back on track and he knew it, but with her mouth on his, the world—both of them—fell away.

Tony rolled his eyes, shaking his head, deeply worried about her and the way the two were making out right there. "Abbs!"

Elbowing Tony in the side, Ziva whispered, "Leave them be, Tony. Even you can see that there is something going on between them. Let Abby have some happiness. Her pain will come sooner than any of us can realize."

"You're helping her…when he goes…" Tony trailed off, shaking his head and looking away. He hated Abby's situation. She was setting herself up for some real heavy duty pain.

"She will need us all, Tony, when he goes back. And none of us want her to be in this position. Not even Gibbs, both of them. But we cannot change the past. We can only affect the future. Let them have their happiness together, before reality has to tear them apart." Tony had been through his own relationship hell. And though she'd been tough on him, cold even, at the end, she knew his heart was damaged from that experience.

"You're telling me to let my best friend help break her own heart," Tony said, his voice sad and vulnerable. He looked at Tim, who was just as conflicted as he was. "It isn't easy, Ziva…"

"No, it is not easy, Tony. Love never is easy. But they have a connection, you can see it. Let them find their way. And be there for her when her heart breaks. We are family. But we cannot control what fate throws at us. Her heart will break on its own. It is too late for that. But Abby is smart. She will not go blindly." Walking up to Tony, she grabbed his arm. "I am not telling you, Tony. I am asking that you just…wait."

This hit uncomfortably close to what had happened between him and Jeanne, and he'd thought he was smart…but he'd gone blindly. And it still hurt now. "I can't just watch," Tony told her quietly.

He turned away, staring at the ground.

Understanding his pain, Ziva called out. "We will be upstairs. When you are…done, we will be in the squad room. Where we had our little…training exercise. Do not be long." Nodding to Tim and Tony, she left, hoping they'd follow her.

Breaking contact with Jet, Abby watched her friends walk out of her lab, a sadness stealing over her at the situation they were being put in. She knew Tony's concern was justified, that he was worried she was going to get hurt. But she couldn't resist the pull of the man next to her.

Realizing they were alone, she shook off the melancholy mood and turned back to the man who held her. "So, we're alone. And I've turned the cameras off, as well as the comlink that lets them see into my lab…Any ideas?"


	15. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

The streets were still the same and Gibbs found himself navigating to Abby's place without any huge snafus. They pulled up to a place that Gibbs felt screamed Abbs. Tim had fallen quiet after they'd spoken and Gibbs knew that he'd given the younger man a lot to chew on. He drove silently until they arrived and then he turned to McGee. "You ready for this, Tim?"

"Not particularly, but what the hell?" He shrugged, opening the car door and stepping out into the New Orleans sunshine and humidity.

"She doesn't bite—hard," Gibbs said with a small smile. Seeing Abby again—any Abby—was perking him up as much as having McGee here was. "Let's do it then, Tim."

Gibbs strode up to the door and knocked briskly, wondering what he might find.

The door swung slowly open as a husky voice from inside called out, "Come in, gentlemen. I've been waiting a long time to see you together."

Gibbs turned and gave Tim a small smile. "Hang on, I think we have a hell of a ride ahead." He walked inside, looking around. "Where are ya, Abby? Brought a friend." But she knew that.

"What am I?" Tim hissed. "A sacrifice?" He didn't like the look of the place, too much darkness and something else he couldn't identify.

"You do not need to yell, Jethro. I can hear quite well," Abigail said, stepping out from the shadows. In this world, she was on the curvier side, full breasts and hips, though her hair was still dark and her legs long. She wore a muu-muu common to housewives, though the dark blue fabric was decorated with glittering moons and stars.

"Welcome," she said as she greeted them.

Gibbs checked her out approvingly. She wasn't stick thin here but well-rounded, soft, lush. "Not a sacrifice, Tim." He stepped inside, feeling that the place had the essence of Abbs. It was natural to pull her into a hug and kiss her cheek, even as his gut screamed that she was not his Abbs and he needed to proceed with caution.

He motioned to McGee. "You know my friend here?"

Blushing at the unexpected kiss from the handsome man, Abigail stepped forward, holding out her hand to greet the other. "Of course I do. This is the counterpart to your own Timothy McGee. Welcome to my home, gentlemen. Please, make yourself at comfortable."

Tim shook her hand slowly, shock at his surroundings starting to overwhelm him. He was on the edge of the bayou in New Orleans, at the home of a strange woman who by the looks of her house believed in some form of the dark arts, with a man who claimed to be from another dimension. He could already feel the headache coming.

Gibbs squeezed Tim's shoulder. "Remember, I didn't tell her your name." He turned back to Abby—this Abby. "Did you bring me here, Abbs? Hell of a trip for a kiss on the cheek…or even if you wanted more."

"Ah, Jethro. I see you're turning up the charm for me." Leaning closer to him, she whispered conspiratorially, "Not that I'm against it, mind you. Feel free to continue using your charm. I do believe it's working."

Gesturing to the overstuffed chairs in the living room, she spoke to them both. "Why don't you take a seat, gentlemen, and get comfortable. Can I offer you something to drink? Water? Tea? Lemonade? Something stronger, perhaps?"

"Coffee, black, New Orleans style, Abbs." Gibbs gave her another appraising look, liking what he saw in her eyes. There was some of his Abby there, and that made her safe. Or at least that was what his gut said. He arched a brow. "But you know what I drink, don't you? Gonna need some answers."

"Oh, I know what you drink, handsome. But it is good manners to ask. Will coffee do for you as well, Mr. McGee?" she asked over her shoulder as she was leaving. Pouring the coffee into the serving kettle, she set it along with cups, sugar and cream, onto a tray, before coming back into room where the men waited.

Putting the tray down in front of them, she sat back in her chair and waited, not needing to be a precog to know what questions were coming.

Gibbs poured a cup and sipped deeply, eyeing her. "Gonna tell me how this happened or ya gonna make me interrogate you?"

"Maybe I want to be interrogated, Special Agent Gibbs. I believe there would be something to be had, having you in an interrogation room. I wonder who would be on the other side of the two-way mirror…"

"Maybe you want to be strip searched," he retorted, the flirting coming easy to him, even though he was mentally head slapping himself. This was a distraction he didn't need. "If you had me in an interrogation room, I wouldn't make you smile, Abigail."

"You don't know what gets me off, Gibbs. So don't be so sure that I wouldn't be smiling in that interrogation room." Winking at him, she turned her focus on the other man.

Gibbs arched a brow, giving her a challenging look and nodding. "Give something to Tim to go on, he doesn't know you're for real. What are his sisters' names?

"This McGee or the other?" Seeing the growing frustration, Abby held out her ring-decked hand and stopped the game. "The other McGee, the one from your dimension, has only one sister, Sarah. However, the McGee you brought to me has two sisters. Or had, rather. I am sorry for that, Tim. No young boy should have to live through the death of a sister."

Tim shot up from his chair. "What in the hell kind of game is this? Did you bring me here as some sort of sick, twisted game? Do you two get your rocks off screwing with people like this?"

Abby watched the violent outburst from the previously quiet man. There was something to be said for her counterpart's original attraction to McGee. Intriguing.

Gibbs stood over Tim, sitting him down by the shoulders. "Shut up and listen, Tim. You want to see your sister again? Abby is the key! I need to get home and she is the answer and you are not screwing this up for me, McGee. You're staying if I have to hold you down, and in the shape you're in, it wouldn't be a fight with one hand tied behind my back!"

Gibbs moved behind Tim, keeping him in the chair with hands clamped onto shoulders.

"How about quitting the foreplay and getting to the main event, Abbs?"

"Ah, that's too bad. Was always a fan of foreplay. Nevertheless." Grabbing a remote control from the table next to her, she fielded the confused looks on the men's faces. "I may be a psychic, gentlemen, but that doesn't mean I can't use the modern advances of our society."

Settling back into her chair, she paused a moment before beginning. "As you probably figured out by now, Gibbs, you're from a parallel dimension. And while your Abby is currently torturing herself thinking she's the one who sent you here, I will admit that it was actually me; though I had to wait for her to find the instructions I set up on your Internet. Without her aid on that side, I couldn't have had the opportunity to pull you through. Correction." She stopped her explanation, pointing her index finger as she reconsidered. "I should say that I would be able to do it. But that kind of transfer would take far more energy than I would be comfortable with giving."

Eyeing both men, she continued. "For fun, I sent the other Gibbs in your place. Interesting developments have come up from that. Your Abby has formed quite the attachment already. Our two hearts have always been open like that. But I digress."

Holding up her hand to bar the questions she saw in Gibbs' interrogator brain, she continued. "No, I don't need to wait for your Abbs to open her end again to be able to switch you. Before I get to that part, do you have any questions?"

"You caused this?" Gibbs asked, rounding on her. "How? Why? What the hell tune am I supposed to dance to please you, Mistress?" he asked sarcastically. "And why the hell do you care about having me here? What did my counterpart do, turn you down or something? This a woman scorned thing?" He was used to those.

Rounding on her, he stalked in close, pulling her roughly to her feet. "Tell me why you're fucking with my life," he roared.

Clicking the remote in her hand, she pulled up a video on the large flat screen, a video that had been the cause of the whole situation in the first place, the video that had spurred Abigail to change the lives of the two men. "I thought, Special Agent Gibbs, you might be interested in rescuing your wife."


	16. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

After he broke away—reluctantly—from Abby, Jet made his way upstairs to the desk area. The largest desk was his counterpart's, he remembered, and he went to it, glancing at the people watching him and nodding briskly. He knew this team, but there were others who seemed more than a little curious.

There was an instant message application on the computer screen and he opened it, clicking on a link to a chatroom with what he assumed were the three others.

_Coach me_, he typed.

_Frown and glare at the computer a lot_, Tony replied._ Tell us to pull some cold cases and bark the orders. Gibbs calls Probie McGee all the time, I'm mostly DiNozzo, but Ziva is always Ziva, Abby is either Abby or Abbs and Ducky is always Ducky or Duck. McGee, you get the personnel files organized?_

_Yes, they're on their way,_ Tim replied._ Gibbs, you should see an icon in the corner of your screen. Click on it. That's the file we have on Gibbs, as well as the complete dossier Ziva compiled before she came to NCIS. I've secured this chatroom; no one can come in without an invitation being sent. Ducky and Abby will also have access. If you have a question for either one of us specifically, click on the name of the person – the names will be at the top of the screen – and a private chatroom will open up to that person._

Jet's head was spinning at the rapid-fire information overload, but he catalogued everything. McGee, DiNozzo, Ziva, Abbs or Abby and Ducky or Duck.

He nodded, typing his thanks and opening the file. Reading it was an experience. In some ways they were similar—Jackson Gibbs being their father. But his counterpart had married Shannon, the redhead whose aunt ran the dress shop in Stillwater. He and his counterpart had both been Marines, but had followed different paths. The other Gibbs had seen combat; he'd never been beyond training missions. His counterpart had been married four times, while he'd only married once. And instead of owning his own corporation, his counterpart had made a career at NCIS. They were a few years apart in age and their fathers were as well.

Different, but the same in some ways as well.

Having been quiet for way too long, Ziva spoke. "What would you like us to do, Gibbs? Do we have an active case, or would you like us to work the cold cases?"

"Pull some cold case files," he said, making his voice extra gruff. "Let's crack some of these." He had no idea of how to access cold cases, if they were print or electronic, and he arched a brow at the woman, hoping she'd take the lead and give him some guidance.

Nodding to show encouragement, Ziva got up from her desk and made her way to the filing cabinet. Picking out some folders that appeared promising, she set one in front of each team member. "Here you go…Gibbs."

"Get crackin', Ziva," he replied, shooting her a subtle wink. He opened a file, making notations on a pad of paper. Wondering if he ought to do this electronically, he typed, _would he write or type his notes?_

_Gibbs has an unhealthy hatred for most things technological. He prefers a pad of paper and a pencil to the use of a program on the computer. You are doing just fine,_ Ziva typed.

He nodded his thanks, scribbling facts, looking at things with different eyes than the team. He'd been around law enforcement for a long time, had seen a few cases unfold while training men and women investigating them. But something about this case didn't seem to ring true. As he began concentrating deeply, he started relaxing, his shoulders unclenching.

Tony watched the man's expression get more serious and intense and smiled. He was taking on more of a Gibbs look now. Maybe they'd be okay.

Glancing up briefly, Ziva caught Tony's smile and followed his eyes. Seeing Gibbs immersed in the case file she'd handed him, she felt a similar smile appear on her own lips. Looking back to Tony, she smiled, giving him a subtle wink. Though her training kept her on edge for anything, she couldn't help but wonder how easily this Gibbs would assimilate into the process.

There were some things very similar about both men. They had similar body language and Tony knew when Gibbs brushed a hand over his face that he might have found something. "Boss?" he questioned casually.

"DiNozzo?"

Tony jerked his head to the file without answering.

"Special Agent Gibbs." Tony heard the voice from behind him and he stiffened right up. _Vance_? Now? He hoped someone would alert Gibbs before it was too late.

Seeing Vance begin walking down the staircase, Ziva sent off a quick message to Gibbs in the chat room. _That is Director_ _Vance! Close down this chat until he is gone._

"Good morning, Director," Tim called from his desk.

"Good morning, Special Agent McGee," Vance said in his clipped tone. Suspiciously, he looked around the bullpen at the group who appeared too interested in the case files in front of them.

"Special Agent Gibbs," he repeated. "May I ask what your team is working on right now?" Though it was framed as a question, no one would believe he was actually asking permission.

Jet stood and moved to the front of his desk, sensing it was expected of him. He leaned casually against the desk and folded his arms. "Cold cases. That okay with you?"

Tony looked over at McGee, nodding in approval. He wasn't their Gibbs but he was holding his own.

Noting the team's behavior, Vance quickly grew suspicious. Something was going on here. The undercurrent was too tense to be otherwise. Narrowing his eyes, he studied Gibbs, seeing the darkened hair and smoother features. Even the stance was different. _What the hell is going on here?_

"I'll expect a sit-rep from you at 1400, in my office, Special Agent Gibbs." His tone brooked no argument as he turned to head back to his own office.

"Sit-rep on cold cases?" Gibbs replied with a snort. "Slow day, Director?"

He had the arrogance too, that worked for Tony. But they only had a couple of hours to work Gibbs through anything he might need in order to fool Vance.

"A situation report on the status of your team, Special Agent Gibbs. Including all reports, firing proficiency, psych evaluations. Did you forget we had an appointment?" Vance turned to face the man, standing as he was on the platform of the stairs. Gibbs was cocky, arrogant, but there was something about him today that was sending Vance's alarm bells ringing.

"Ya email it to me? I never check email." He waved his hand. "You know my team is the best. You must be bored or something. Fourteen hundred, make sure you have good coffee."

Turning, he dismissed the man, walking back to the desk and trying not to catch anyone's eyes. He'd have to check on his performance when the guy was gone.

Vance furrowed his forehead, definitely convinced that something was up. Vance glanced at each of the team members, though he wasn't fooled them as they seemed overtly attentive to the work at their computers.

Tabling it for now, he knew he'd have a chance at Gibbs later. He turned and made his way back to his office.

Jet motioned to the younger man to get the chatroom open, figuring the guy might have spies or cameras nearby.

With a few quick taps of his fingers on the keyboard, Tim opened a chatroom, waiting for the others to join him.

Jet joined in, typing quickly, _What the hell was that about?_

_He's testing you,_ Tim typed. _He's always testing and pushing, seeing if he can get you off your game._

_Do I really have a meeting with him? _They shrugged and he sighed inwardly. _How do I work this?_

_Tim? Any ideas? _Tony knew there wasn't time to brief him on all aspects of all the cases, and even if there was, he was only human—even though he was a Gibbs. How would he remember?

_What if we get called to a case? _Ziva offered when Tim hesitated. _If Gibbs gets a call suddenly, he would not be able to make that meeting, yes?_

_Well, yeah, but I don't have those connections with God, Ziva,_ Tony replied. _Any ideas?_

_If a lead came through on a cold case that sent us out in the field?_ If that didn't work, Ziva was out of ideas after that.

_Okay, work with me here, I may have something, _Jet typed. _Something doesn't look right here._

_Where? _Tim asked, intrigued that the newbie had found something they had missed. _Which case are you looking into?_

He tapped the file and looked at the younger man. _How do we discuss these?_

_Generally, you bring stuff up on the plasma with the clicker. Or you have us run stuff…_Tim almost suggested a campfire, but that was Tony's way not Gibbs'.

Jet nodded, looking around for the clicker and tossing it over. "Get up cold case 99-0957, McGee. Where can we find Agent Pacci to interview?"

Tony gulped hard, typing quickly. _He's dead, murdered. You and I investigated._

Jet winced, nodding. "Get the case up!"

"On it, Boss," McGee called out, scrambling to pull up the case. With a few clicks, he had the case on the plasma.

"Read the second page. Natalie Olean said she found her mother's body at oh six fifteen, but her smart tag was swiped at oh six fourteen. How could she have arrived at the house one minute after she came off the highway? They live two miles from the exit. Need to pull the network's time info and see if it was audited at all. If not, Natalie's got some answers to give us."

Tony knew it was possible that the smart tag records hadn't been automated at the time, making it much harder to get the most accurate information. But it had all been back fed into systems, and would be an easy check.

Nodding at the information McGee pulled up, Ziva commented, "Nice catch…Gibbs. You want us to gas up the car? To go to talk to Ms. Olean?"

"Get the files from the smart tag people first, then…we go." Jet looked around, meeting their eyes, hoping he was doing a passable impression of their boss.

"On it, Boss," Tim called out, pulling up the programs he needed.

Ziva smiled at Jet, impressed with his ability to adapt to such a strange situation.

Tony gave them each a small look of acknowledgment. "Mapping the address, Boss. Should have it in a few minutes."

"Good work," Jet said, trying to project calmness and an in control persona. He had a feeling he was completely failing.

Hanging up the phone, McGee said, "The people at the smart tag company are faxing over the information. They did an audit on their files six weeks after the murder. We should have it in a few minutes."

"Good," Jet said again, looking from one to the other. "When was the last time any of you looked at this file?" he barked.

Ziva flinched at the very Gibbs-like moment, looking to Tony and McGee. "I do not know, Gibbs. We have many cold case files that have to take a back burn when we get an active one."

Tony couldn't help smiling at Ziva's mistake. "Back burner," he muttered. Other Gibbs was good enough to fool Vance in the short term and that was an excellent catch, one that the team would have found, but they were trained investigators. He'd discovered that detail buried in pages and pages of files within a couple of hours.

"Better work harder," Gibbs growled in reply.

"Right," Tim said automatically. "We'll do better."

Tony couldn't help grinning. "We're on it, Boss!" He Google mapped the address and printed it out, turning to McGee when he was done.

"Okay, Boss," Tim said, catching their attention. "Got the smart tag records. And our proof that something's not right."

Jet crossed over to the younger man and leaned over, crowding his space. "Tell me more."

"There's…um…nothing more to tell. Other than what you've already found out," Tim squeaked out.

"Why didn't we see it earlier?" Jet asked, getting into his role.

"He's good," Tony whispered to Ziva.

"Yes, he is quite good. There must be something in both men, something inherent to being Leroy Jethro Gibbs, that is showing now." Ziva felt a little sorry for Tim as he took the brunt of Jet's new found…Gibbs-ness.

"I…um…" Tim stuttered, looking to the other two agents for help. "I don't know that we've opened this case file before now, Boss."

"Well, you need to get better, more damned competent. Or I can fire your ass! Got the address? What're we waiting for?"

"Gear up," Tony replied, taking a temporary lead and rushing toward the elevator.

Thankful, Tim quickly grabbed up his pack and bolted after Tony, Ziva trailing behind to make sure Jet followed.

Jet walked into the elevator and as soon as it was closed, he squeezed Tim's shoulder gently. "Didn't mean to be so hard on you. You okay? Was that how your boss acts?"

"It worked. You were really good, by the way," Tim replied, knowing Jet hadn't really been picking on him.

"Not natural," Jet said. "My people are usually scared into submission. You see what I saw in that file? We're not going on a wild goose chase?"

"No, not at all. We all saw what you did. It was a great catch. We get so many of these cold cases. And with Pacci gone…he was such a damn good agent," Tim murmured.

"He was," Tony added. "Pacci ran the cold case division. He was murdered just before Tim came up from Norfolk. He was a good friend…"

Tim nodded, unsure of what to say as the elevator moved quietly.

Ducky was unable to help his curiosity and concern and made his way to Abby's lab. "How are you, my dear?"

"Hey, Duckman. I'm…hanging in, I guess. You missed everyone. The team just headed upstairs, to try and work Jet into Gibbs' position." Turning away from her computer, she knew she wasn't hiding anything from Ducky.

"What is going on, my dear? Where did he come from? What is the situation with him? And yourself…" Ducky added gently.

"I don't know the answers, not really. He's from another dimension, I think. He wants to go home, but not really. I'm not really sure how it was possible for me to do something like that with no experience. And me? I'm fine," she asked.

Sometimes following what Abby said was utterly confusing. "What do you mean he wants to go home but not really? Another dimension?" It was all quite overwhelming, and Ducky looked at her face, the redness present. "Have you been kissing that man?"

Her face lit up, her skin unable to hide the blush. "Ducky, that's not really important right now," she exclaimed, trying to change the subject.

"It is completely and utterly relevant, my darling. Talk to me." And it was much less confusing than the rest.

With that one small command, Abby felt everything spill out from her. "I don't know what to say, Ducky. Yeah, we…kissed. And we have this connection. It's like I've found what I was looking for, even though I didn't know I was looking. And I know that's a total cliché, but it's true. And it's nothing to do with him being the double of Gibbs, even though maybe that's a part. But it's different, you know? And he still has to go home, doesn't he? I still have to send him back, right? But now he's saying that he maybe wants to stay here with me. But wouldn't that be selfish of me? To ask him to stay, to leave everything he knows and loves? His family? His friends? His work? And what about our Gibbs? If this one stays, can ours come back? I couldn't make that decision, abandoning our Gibbs in some strange place. I don't care that he used to be a sniper and can protect himself and blah blah blah. It's totally different, you know?"

"Oh, my dear," Ducky said quietly, holding her close. "You need to make it right, Abby. You'll realize what that means soon enough." She was speaking to him like she'd never spoken before and Ducky was concerned. This sounded like more than an infatuation, but how could it be? They'd known each other only minutes.

She hugged him tightly, squeezing her eyes closed tightly to stem the tears. "I'm trying to make it right, Ducky. I'm trying to figure out how to bring Gibbs home. But if Jet— that's this Gibbs, or he goes by L.J. too—if Jet wants to stay, but he's supposed to go back, am I supposed to make the choice for him to leave? If it's the right thing to do to make him leave and go back to the people who love him, how I am supposed to do that? How many movies could Tony quote to me about how one person has to make the other believe that they don't lo…care about them? Ducky! I've made such a mess of things. I need Gibbs here. He'd know what to do."

"But you don't have him, Abby," Ducky reminded quietly. "And he can't tell you what the other man and your heart say. That must be your decision and his. Speak with this Jet or L.J." That was if she could return both men to their homes, whatever that meant.

Sniffing, she pulled away. "I know I don't have him, Ducky. And I know that's my fault." Finding little solace in her friend's words, Abby turned to go back to work.

"Darling, I wasn't blaming you, not at all, my dear. I was just reminding you of how pointless it is to give in to the what ifs when Jethro isn't here anyway."

Abby looked back to Ducky, trying to see if he really meant what he said. The stress, the encounter with Jet, everything had pushed their weight onto Abby's shoulders. Turning into Ducky, she let a few tears escape as her body shook.

"Shhh," Ducky whispered into her shoulder. "Come, sit down. Would you like some more of that soda you fancy or shall I make you a cup of tea. I'll even put a nip of something else in it, if you like."

Wiping at the few tear tracks stained with her makeup, she gave him a watery smile. "No, Ducky. Don't think it'd be a really good idea to have a nip of anything right now. Tea's for calm afternoons and sharing stories, and Caf-Pows are rewards for figuring something out. Neither one of those apply right now."

"What then?" he asked her gently. "What can I get you while we put our heads together and figure this out?"

"A time machine?" she asked, trying to make light of the situation.

"Don't have one of those in my repertoire."

Giving him a sad smile, she said, "Too bad."

"Abby, chin up, my dear. We'll figure this out, and you have met a very interesting man. Why, he may know another Abigail who has followed a different path in life. Have you asked about that?" Ducky paused for a long moment. "Abby, do tell me about him."

"He's…amazing Ducky. I can't…I can't really explain him. Not well. It'd be like trying to tell someone about you, or Ziva, or…Gibbs." Sighing, she pushed a little from him, knowing she had to get started soon, trying to figure out how to get Jet home. "I don't if he knows the other me. But if he knows me from his world, wouldn't he have said something when he saw me here?"

"Would depend. Perhaps the other you is a blonde who goes by another name. Don't think I don't know that your natural hair color is blonde, my dear."

"Only when I let it grow out, Ducky. But my face would still be the same. I don't think he knows me, not like that."

"Perhaps not, Abby," Ducky said with a sigh. "Might he know of her instead? Perhaps they know each other from the Internet or something. This reminds me of a time when…." He trailed off.

Shrugging her shoulders, she said, "I don't know, Ducky. Jet'd be the only one who could answer that."

"Talk to him, learn more about his world, my dear. What differences are there? And explore this as much as you can, remembering that Jethro might be in danger."

"I would, Duckman, but he's upstairs, trying to pretend to be Gibbs. And I'm down here, trying to figure out how to bring Gibbs home."

Ducky knew it wasn't going to be easy and likely would not be a slow process. "You can do it, my dear…you can." But the whole situation was impossible…

"I'm going to figure this out, Ducky," she explained, feeling how unsure he was. "But we need to make sure that Vance doesn't find out. So, if they need you, if Tony needs you to help them out, better make sure you're ready too."

"I'm ready. I'm prepared to assist in anything they need. I always am." Ducky rubbed her back, wishing he could somehow assure her that it would all be okay.

She gave him a small smile. "Then I'd head to autopsy. If they get a call or a case, Jet/Gibbs will need you there to support his cover."

"Are you dismissing me?" Ducky asked.

"No, Ducky. Not at all. Sorry, I was distracted. You can stay here. I appreciate the company."

He rested a gentle hand on her back. "I think you don't need to be alone."

"Afraid I'm gonna send you somewhere this time, Ducky?" she tried to tease, though in fact that situation was something she was nervous about.

"I'd welcome any sort of adventure like that," Ducky assured, and he meant it. Abby knew he had an adventurous heart.

"Yeah, I guess you would. And so would I. I just don't wanna lose you, 'kay?" she asked, a tremor in her voice.

"You won't, darling. I am right here." Ducky rubbed her back gently. "You know, Mother spoke long ago about other worlds not quite our own…"

"She did?" Abby said, turning towards him. "What'd she say?" Maybe Ducky's mom had told him something that could help her now.

"Well, I considered it rambling, as she is want to do. Would you care to talk to her? Now that she's in the home and on her medication, she has a great deal more clarity. She's always known things…" Ducky didn't know how to explain it any better.

"When we get a break here, I'd like that, Ducky. I love Victoria. Such a wealth of information, so much spunk. Kinda like her son," she said, smiling at him.

"Nothing like her son, I'm afraid. She has the adventurous spirit, I'm a pale imitation of her. You just tell me when and we'll ring her."

"Oh, Ducky," Abby exclaimed out of disbelief. "You can't tell me the man who pushed a police officer over a cliff, who escaped with Gibbs, is a pale imitation. You are the most colorful man I know!"

Ducky colored and stared at the ground. "I've had my adventures, but nothing like hers, Abigail. She used to talk about her journeys and travels…" Could those have been the travels to another place, rather than her imaginings? Ducky wondered suddenly and it all clicked together for him. Perhaps he could help the situation.

"Well, if you're pale in comparison to her, I have no color at all in comparison to you, Duckman. I may look wild, but I haven't had any adventures, not like you."

"You shall, my dear. With this new man." Ducky had a strange feeling about them…

"Don't go making predictions, Ducky, though I love you for them." She gave him a quick hug, wishing he really did know. "He has family and loved ones and a life…I can't ask him to stay, Ducky. I won't."

He leaned in close. "Mother isn't the only one that has a touch of the sight, Abigail…and I see this clearly. You and this man."

"Or you're seeing me and our Gibbs. He and I are…we're family, Ducky. We'll be together forever. Like you and I are family," she said, giving him a smile.

"Not you and Jethro, my dear. He's not had hair that dark since before you came to NCIS. And he's never kissed you like this Jethro has."

She gave a very unladylike snort when Ducky said that. "No, Ducky. No, he hasn't."

"I can see you have a…bond with him," Ducky told her solemnly.

"And you very well know I'm not his type, Ducky. Wrong colored hair. Not quite sophisticated enough."

"Do you know this man, this other Gibbs? Are you qualified to make such an assessment?"

"You mean what's his type? I don't know, Ducky. Just met him." _Did more than just meet him._ She blushed.

"You have done significantly more than just meet him, my dear. And you will do a great deal more before the sun comes up tomorrow, if my hunches are correct."

Her blush darkened to a deep crimson as he spoke to her. "Ducky! Please, let's just…um, concentrate on getting our Gibbs home."

"Yes, yes, darling. Why don't we go to see Mother after work? It won't take very long then you and Jet-your gentleman—can spend some time together."

"You know I'm always up for seeing Victoria." As for Jet, she'd have to see. Since he'd left her lab, she hadn't heard from him or any of the team.

'It's a date then," Ducky said briskly, kissing her cheek. "Now, you try to relax until we talk with Mother."

After their conversation, she was feeling more resigned now, less nervous, though she was still waiting for the next shoe to drop. Shaking off her morose thoughts, Abby repeated, "A date. I'm looking forward to it. As long as I don't ship any more of our team to another dimension, I should be fine."

"Yes, you'll be fine, darling. Now get on with you work. I think I shall relax here for some time. Autopsy is quite dead, if you'll pardon the pun."

"Make yourself comfortable, Duckman. Wanna put on some Android Lust for us?" She still loved how much Ducky and she had in common when it came to music.

Ducky chuckled and wandered over to the music player. "Which disc most suits you today, Abigail?"

"Surprise me, Duckman. It'll only fit the day that much more."

Ducky slipped the latest disc in and turned it to a low volume. He watched her dance around the room, a small smile on his face. She needed this break before things heated up again. And heat up they would!


	17. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

"My…what?" Gibbs asked, turning to the screen, walking close. Shannon was dead here…and home. She was dead. But there she was on video, walking…His hands shook as he reached out, tracing the curve of her cheek. Shannon and Kelly were here! Alive!

"How?" he managed to choke out.

"As far as I have been able to discover, someone from my world brought her here. To what ends, I do not know. What I do know is that this someone has the power to pull her through not only through dimensions, but also time. Regardless, this is _your_ Shannon, Gibbs." Walking towards the television, she stopped when she was next to him, grateful that McGee had gone quiet.

"Not a Shannon from an even different world from the two of ours, but the Shannon you met and married. In the instant of that crash, the crash that took your daughter's life, this person pulled Shannon here." There was no other way to tell him Kelly hadn't survived, but she wasn't cruel enough to let that hope live long. "You didn't ID the bodies, Gibbs. You didn't see for sure that it was Shannon or not. It wasn't. She was dragged here in the throes of that accident to become a slave."

Clicking again, she pulled up a closer view of Shannon's arms, highlighting the bands there. "From what little I know of the technology, those bands keep her prisoner. Unable to run away, unable to resist being called home. If she does resist, and she did in the beginning—a fighter, that one—the pain that results is excruciating."

Turning away, she walked to the window that normally showed her a scene that gave her troubled mind a measure of peace. "I tried to free her, Gibbs. I can't stand seeing the slaves that have been captured and detained because of this technology. Normally, I can free them. It's helpful to live on the edge of the bayou. Easier for people to disappear out here. But I can't get around the combination of that technology with the addition of the unknown's power."

She turned back around, leaning on the windowsill. "That is why I have created this chaos. I can't do this alone, and there is no one here in this world I can trust. I pulled you here, Gibbs, to help me save your wife. And do not doubt me, she is your wife. This Shannon is the woman you shared vows with."

It was all so much to absorb, even with his mind being as agile as it was. He tried to shove his shock away and focus on what she was saying. Kelly was dead, that was clear. Having that little bit of hope taken away cut deep, especially seeing Shannon here; a Shannon who looked as young as she had been the day he'd shipped out to the Middle East almost twenty years ago. It was impossible, and yet Gibbs knew it was her.

He swallowed hard, blinking back emotion to focus on her and concentrate on what was being said. Shannon was…being kept by someone?

Gibbs didn't question, didn't doubt. He knew the look in his wife's eyes, even though they were clouded with fear. There was something primal and elemental that called to him. This went beyond gut and into soul. He had a soul connection with his wife. And that _was_ his wife!

"Where? Where is she? How did you find her? Kelly…." He had so many questions and he wasn't a talker, had never been good at that. He turned, taking in McGee as well. "You start helping," he ordered, vaguely gesturing around, barely able to hear over the pounding of his heart.

Seeing McGee absorbed in his own thoughts, and having a good idea why, Abby took the initiative. "She is nearby, Jethro. A twist of fate, I guess, that has her living so close to me. Or perhaps a better term would be destiny, that all of our lives were meant to intersect. I was exploring your world through my window," she explained, meaning something beyond the window she was standing in front of.

"I learned about you, about your team, about my other self. I knew of Shannon and what had happened to her and Kelly. And when I saw her in my own world, it was a shock. I already knew her counterpart in this world was dead, cancer. My journey to free her, to bring you here began in the moment I realized who she was."

He looked at the screen again, shock bleeding away to a sense of purpose and need. "Who has her? What're they doing to her? Where…I need to do recon, I need a goddamned team."

"You don't have one here, Jethro. You have…" With her arms out she gestured to encompass her and McGee. "I can't fathom what they're doing to her. But I can feel them. Their power and mine are drawn to each other."

"Was the other me a Marine? If so, we have brothers, men who'll help…" He didn't care that he was grasping at straws, there was no other choice. He had to save her.

He stared back at the screen, looking at the cars, studying the visual cues, landscape, anything he could use to narrow down her location. "Have you traced the license plates? That'll narrow it down."

"I know who it is, Jethro. Rather, I know where they are. I have ways of finding people beyond even your skills. However, they are expecting an assault on their…compound. What we need to do is something sneakier, something more in line with the experience of a sniper."

"Fine. Tell me where and I'll start recon, but you can be damned sure if I see her, all bets are off. I will rescue her however I can."

"Go walk along the bayou, Jethro. Take some time to absorb what you now know. You may find her there. This time of day, sometimes they allow her to wander along the water. Makes her easier to handle, giving her that false sense of freedom. And while you do that, I will prepare to protect what you rescue. But know that those bracelets…those bits of medal could kill her if you are not careful." Moving away from the window, she added, "Keep in mind, I will need some time to gather what I need to send you both home. I am, of course, assuming you will be taking her home with you."

"Damned right I am," Gibbs insisted. He looked over at McGee. "Stay here, okay? She doesn't bite. Abby…go easy on him." With that said, he rushed out.


End file.
